We Never Lost It All
by JannP
Summary: Started out loosely based on the song 23 Days by Framing Hanley.  Finn and Rachel need each other and it was just a matter of time until it all exploded.  Rated M for language and sex.
1. Chapter 1: We Never Lost It All

_A/N: This is why I can't do smut. Seriously, this started out inspired by **23 Days **by **Framing Hanley**_**. **_And it turned into... well, what it is. Awesome song, awesome band... and yeah. This is post-2X12 but not based on any spoilers or anything. Just my own dark cave of a mind. I hope you guys enjoy it. Thanks for reading._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. End of story.

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**We Never Lost It All**

He leaned into the bench a little harder, leaning down as he extended his arm and then pulled the hand weight back. He huffed out a breath, still unable to see anything but the red that flooded his vision every time he thought about it.

It had been twenty-three days since he had told her that kissing Quinn was like fireworks. She had sweetly asked about when he kissed her and he hadn't been able to answer. He couldn't make himself say the truth, but he couldn't lie either. So he'd sat there, trapped, as she stammered and stumbled out of the room. His mom had cuffed him when he told her why she'd seen Judy Fabray just outside, dragging Quinn who looked as close to death as Finn felt.

_Why had she looked that way?_ Because he'd made her look that way.

How could they be the only two at the school with mono? Wasn't mono the 'kissing disease'? What the hell did he think he was doing kissing Quinn Fabray after all she had done?

_Where was Rachel? _He hadn't been able to spit it out other than to say they'd broken up. She knew it, she offered a little bit of half-assed comfort and then she'd stopped talking.

He pushed forward. He was still fairly exhausted all of the time, but life had gone on. His mom made him come to school and made him promise not to kiss anyone until he had been cleared by Doc Rynders.

He shook his head and blew out another breath as he pulled his arm back up into his body.

He hadn't lied to Rachel since the Santana thing. Not once. He was totally confused. He was _still_ confused. He watched her, he saw her moving on, and he wanted punch his locker. Twice he'd actually done it, but who was counting?

Deep down, he knew he'd hurt her when he said she had done something bad. He was the one person who had promised not to write her off, the one who had told her he loved her no matter what stupid, drama-queen shit she pulled. And he did. There was something about the moments she realized she had been wrong. She never, ever said the words, but there was something about the moments when she looked to him for help fixing whatever she had screwed up. There was something that made him feel powerful and bigger-than-life.

Rachel was the only person who could give him an ego boost with a single, brown eyed glance.

He relied on that feeling. The football game, the kissing booth, all that other stuff, it was just a distraction and it was totally fake. There was nothing compared to the feeling of kissing her.

He switched the weight to the other hand and began the sawing motion again. Judging from the fact that his left arm felt like Jell-o, the weights were way too heavy. He just didn't care anymore. He was hoping if he made himself tired enough, his head would shut the fuck up. Not likely.

There was only one thing, one person who could calm it all down. She could slow the world down and make him see everything so much clearer. It didn't even take a kiss, because that's all it took to make him spin. But how did it actually feel?

It had been a long time since he really, really kissed her. He had been afraid to when she had approached him at the kissing booth and slapped down her money. Truth be told, and only to himself, he knew if she kissed him that he would just fucking lose it. Any control, any reason he had _not_ to kiss her or love her or forgive her… it would just be gone.

He didn't understand why he was so scared to kiss her. He had done it so many times before, and each time felt good. Even when it should've been mixed with guilt because he was cheating on a pregnant girlfriend, or even when it should've been mixed with hesitance because he knew he was pushing them past some imaginary line in their relationship, it felt _good_. It felt like playing with fire, but in a good way. Was there a good way to play with fire?

All he knew was each kiss they shared had a way of starting a fire he didn't have the strength or the desire to fight. She made him feel like he was burning alive and he had never been happier to die like that, or to push it a little further. Every inch of unexplored skin, every breathless moan he earned from her for the first time, it made whatever he was feeling ignite, exploding and leaving him blind and breathless.

Fireworks were simple compared to how Rachel made him feel.

There was a flip side to it, though. With all the stuff churning around in his mind, he couldn't forget the way he felt when she told him she'd kissed Puck. Heart pounding, ears ringing, and the nagging need to get away from her as fast as possible—it was another kind of burn. It was the kind of burn that hurt so much he couldn't figure out how to make it stop. The kind of burn that he thought would kill him from the inside out. He couldn't even remember exactly what he'd said to her as he walked away, other than admitting that he didn't know she had the power to make him feel that way.

He ran away. He went to practice, he ran his guts out, he almost killed himself by fumbling more than one scrimmage play, and in the end Bieste had thrown her clipboard right at his head and told him to pay attention. The clipboard nearly taking his ear off was the first thing he remembered after the words coming out of Rachel's mouth lost their sound.

She was sorry…she was _so_ sorry… she hadn't meant it.

The weight clattered to the ground, the metal-on-tile crunch earned a hearty "What the fuck, Hudson?" as the weight rolled into the bottom of the lockers right by him with a thunk.

He looked up to see Puck watching him with open concern. It was the first time Finn had been to weight training since the whole mono thing. Seemed like he had some stuff to work through.

Finn squeezed his eyes shut tight. He was starting to see red, like he always did when he thought about Rachel. Puck approaching him now would not be good.

It wasn't Puck's fault. It was Rachel's fault. It was _his_ fault. He had screwed things up even more by kissing Quinn, and he knew that now. He also knew now how it felt to be the other guy and it wasn't like he thought. Now that he had walked that walk, he could only imagine how much Puck hated himself.

Because no matter what, Finn had lost Rachel in the process. It was guaranteed Finn hated himself _more._

When was the last time he and Rachel had kissed? When was the last time he loved her and that was all there was between them? He huffed out a breath before he reached down to pick up the loaded weight he'd been using, then crossed the weight room to put it back on the rack where it belonged.

The last time they had kissed…he searched his memory. He couldn't remember.

The look on her face as Santana spilled about his lie, the look that made him _wish_ he were burning alive? He hadn't been able to look at her and had looked at the ground instead. He could remember that—sure. Why couldn't he remember the last time they kissed? And why did it matter so damn much?

Puck was approaching him, was talking, and judging by the way he was walking by dropping one shoulder with every other step, he was saying something gross. Finn wasn't sure, his ears were ringing again.

He couldn't answer Rachel when she asked what it was like to kiss her because he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember when he kissed her without feeling guilty about lying. He couldn't remember what it was like to kiss her with nothing else in the way. All he knew was that he missed kissing her.

Finn muttered something to Puck. Whatever it was, Puck stopped walking and stopped talking or at least Finn _thought_ he did. He couldn't be sure. Finn cleared out the weight room, not even bothering with a shower before he threw on his school clothes and left the school in a hurry. He had to find Rachel. He needed to kiss her. He needed to remember.

He knew he missed her, now he just needed to remember why. And he couldn't be bothered to figure it out any more than that. What day of the week was it? Where was she? Would she be home? He didn't think she would answer him if he called or texted her. But he didn't even know what day it was. If he couldn't remember how it felt to touch her, he sure as shit couldn't remember what day of the week it was or where she would be at any given time. Even half the time when they spent every waking moment together he had to ask constantly where she would be if he really wanted to know.

He tugged his phone out of his jacket pocket, pulling a little harder and swearing as it got tangled in the pocket lining. He pulled it into both hands, looking down as he tried to keep one eye on where he was walking as he texted.

_Where are you?_

He sent the message before he could think too much about it. When it had been a full minute since the 'sent message' displayed on his screen with the little envelope zooming around, his pounding heart jumped up into his throat.

Fuck. He shouldn't have done that. He didn't have the right to text her like that anymore. He sounded like a stalker.

It was a couple more minutes of pacing outside his truck before his phone beeped and buzzed against his palm.

_Home. Why?_

He let out a breath and noticed how shaky it was. Why was this so hard? It was hard because he was still confused. He had marched out of the locker room with purpose, had been so focused on something and now it had slipped away. What did he need? Why did he need to know where she was?

_Can I come over? I need to see you._

He had to back up and retype three or four times before he got it out. The keys on the touch screen seemed impossibly small in his big hands, under his shaking fingertips.

_That's not a good idea._

His heart sunk. At least she had answered. That was progress, wasn't it? He hadn't reached out to contact her, but even in school she didn't talk to him. She didn't walk past him, she didn't sit by him, and when she had to talk to him for glee, she totally didn't look at his face. Not even once.

And it hurt just a little bit. Who in the hell was she to act like she was hurt? Who in the hell was she to act all sad and broken up? It didn't matter anymore who's fault it was or why things had happened. All that mattered to him right now was kissing her. He wanted that damn feeling back and he knew she was the only one who could provide it.

_Please?_

He hopped up in the truck. It was only March, the afternoon was still a little chilly, and he had come outside all sweaty. He didn't want to feel like he was freezing, but it was just as real on the inside of him as it was on the outside of him. He really, really needed to kiss her. He couldn't deny it.

He turned the key in the ignition but didn't drive. He closed his eyes and slammed his head against the steering wheel. Damn it, Rachel. Please? Didn't she know he needed her? He needed her. That was all there was to it.

His eyes glanced to the digital clock display. She would quite likely be home alone. She was right; it wasn't a good idea. But he still needed her anyway. He wasn't sure what he would do if she asked him to take no for an answer—but he thought he might break.

His phone finally beeped.

_Five minutes and we're staying outside._

He didn't reply because he was already pulling out of the parking lot.

It hadn't been so long ago this was all reflex for him. Get out of practice. Go to Rachel's house. Make out. Do homework. Put his mom off for five more minutes that turned into twenty. Eventually say goodnight and sneak out of the house after her dads had gone to bed thinking he was already gone.

There wasn't much to it. But somehow, it was all he needed and it kept him going. In more ways than one.

He missed it. He missed her. He missed how she made him feel when it was good—before all the bad stuff. Would it be possible for them to have it for one night? Like borrow it? He needed that feeling before he went crazy. He'd never been into drugs, but maybe this is what it felt like. Maybe Rachel was his drug. Maybe he was addicted to her because right now he thought he would just explode if he couldn't kiss her again. He needed to remember what it felt like to kiss her, when he could feel it in his fingertips and his legs and his stomach and…and just when he could feel it everywhere.

God, he missed her. If he really did this, would one night be enough? Would he be able to just kiss her one time and walk away? He wasn't very good with self-control and he knew it. He had never wanted to lose control with her because he didn't want to hurt her.

But that was back when he thought she would never hurt him. And now that he knew what it felt like to lose her… well, he wasn't sure she could understand what that felt like.

He pulled to a stop in front of her house, looked up at the familiar outside of the townhouse, and he sighed. He banged his fist against the steering wheel.

He was seriously losing it. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't do this. It might kill him.

But she pulled the door open and he couldn't _not_ do it.

So he got out of the truck and tucked his keys into his jacket pocket as he walked up the driveway to the door where she was waiting.

She looked over his face, took in his heavy breathing, and she offered a fake smile. He knew it was fake.

"Hi," she said. It was the first time she had looked at him since the last time. And the last time, all he had seen was sadness and regrets and hurt and… that wasn't how she was looking at him now and he felt a little bit better. Maybe this was okay. Maybe he could find a way to make this right. When he didn't respond and he just kept looking at her so intensely, she opened the door a little wider.

"What happened to staying outside?" He asked, keeping his glance low and his hands in his pockets.

"It's too cold," she said simply. She moved back so there was room for him to step inside. He remembered the house rules all too well and automatically shucked his shoes off, leaving them in the tiled entryway before he peeled his coat off and turned to hang it on the row of hooks just inside.

Her laugh was a little nervous. She was _never_ nervous. When had he become the guy that made her nervous? His ears started ringing again.

"That looked like a habit," she said lightly, and diverted her gaze. This was the part of Rachel he was used to seeing; the top of her head.

"I guess," he said. He really, really wanted her to look at him. He wanted to talk to her face, not her hair.

Her voice was quiet, reserved. "What are you doing here?"

His voice was even quieter. "I miss you." He ran a hand down her arm and squeezed her hand. "I really, really miss you."

She took a step away and shook her head. "I can't do this. It isn't fair for you to ask me to, Finn. Not this time."

He sighed. "I know. I know it's not fair." He swallowed hard, trying to bite back his guilt and his anger for just a minute. "None of it is fair."

His eyes wandered while she stayed where she had been. She was dressed in her usual after-school clothes, a striped zip-hoodie and jeans. Although the hoodie was zipped almost to the top, he could see the edge of a dark blue shirt underneath peeking out. He desperately wanted to know if it was a tank top and he didn't even know why. His eyes drifted over her chest and up to her bare neck.

Once upon a time, she had worn her own name there in the hollow of her collarbone, tucked close and right into her throat. Then it was his name. Then it was the star necklace he'd given her. He hadn't said anything when he noticed she stopped wearing it, and he didn't know exactly when he noticed, but he had. He reached out, his arms long enough to touch her even after she had stepped back. He traced his finger gently, hesitantly, over the bare spot.

"I miss you," he said again.

"Why?" She asked doubtfully, her head shooting up to look at him. The intensity in her eyes was like when she argued or when she put someone in their place, knowing she was right. His inhale was sharp as he prepared to defend himself.

He stammered through it a little at first, his normal 'dealing with Rachel' mode a little rusty and caught off-guard. "I..I… you asked me how it felt when I kissed you."

She nodded. "Yeah, I asked you that a month ago, Finn. And you didn't answer me. You didn't answer," she echoed. She shook her head. "And now it's too late."

"I couldn't answer you because I don't have words for how it feels."

"That's almost as flattering as not saying anything," she said, her words filled with acid and laced with anger.

His finger was still on her throat. He couldn't move it. It was the only part of his body he could feel, the part that was connected to her.

His eyes searched hers for the challenge. The look that dared him to kiss her. It wasn't there.

"Whatever it is, Rachel, I need to feel it again." He was begging. He didn't recognize his own voice. "_Please_?_" _

She shook her head, and he saw tears welling in her eyes. "You should go kiss Quinn if you want to feel good. Apparently I don't do that for you."

His eyes closed. He wasn't good with words or explaining. He knew it. He had always skated by without it because the girl in front of him had some sort of oceanfront property inside his head. He didn't have to tell her how he felt. She just _knew_.

"You do more than that," he said. He swallowed and her eyes went wide. He couldn't see any white left in them at all, only brown, begging him.

"So why didn't you say that a month ago?"

He closed his eyes. More words? Really, Rachel?

"I don't know," he choked out. "There's a lot of stuff we still need to say."

She stepped back again and he wasn't touching her anymore. She was standing on the bottom stair of the staircase that led up to her room.

"Oh, I think telling me you were officially breaking up with me said it all. If that didn't, kissing your ex-girlfriend while she was dating someone else _certainly_ did."

He dropped his hands to his hips. "I know how it feels. To be the other guy now. It sucks worse than being the one who did it. It sucks knowing you're being used." He stepped closer to the bottom step. "I hate myself for it."

She frowned and slid her hands inside his jacket. "I know that feeling."

"It sucks," he admitted.

She nodded. "Yes it does," she agreed. She had moved closer to him and looked up. Even though his head was still hanging, she was looking right in his eyes when she did that. "Do you think kissing me will make it better?"

"Kissing you makes _everything_ better," he said. He lifted his hand to take hers and press it to where his heart was pounding against his chest. He leaned down the little distance required to press his lips against hers. Her fingers curled around the muscle in his chest. He could feel her grasping at the cotton of his t-shirt, her fingers under his, and his heartbeat tripled—easy.

And it wasn't fireworks. It was a slow burn that was starting right under her hand. It was starting there and spreading outward, spilling over him. He didn't think it would ever go away. He didn't _want _it to go away.

She gasped as she pulled away from it, shocked at the physiological proof of his words right under her fingertips.

"I'm going ask you again, Finn. Don't fuck with me," she said flatly. His eyes widened. Why was it that her saying a dirty word went straight to his pants? God, that was _hot_. "How does it feel when you kiss me?"

He was looking over her face, still breathing hard. "Fire," he said simply.

"What's the difference between fire and fireworks?" She asked, ducking from his attempt to keep kissing her to demand more answers.

"Fire doesn't go away. Fireworks are over fast," he said quickly. Frustrated at the loss of contact, he took her jaw in both his hands and pressed his lips to hers again.

This time, her tongue darted out of her mouth and traced his lips. It was all he needed. He opened his mouth to let her tongue in, pressing his tongue against hers as he bent down a little to grasp at the back of her thighs, not even thinking about his actions. She didn't question him, either, even though it was way more than they'd ever done before. She gave a certain little jump and hooked her legs around his waist and he groaned appreciatively.

Maybe she was trying to kill him. It was that feeling that he would be okay dying _right now_ though.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him tightly as he started walking up the stairs. Left foot… right foot…left foot. He stopped and kissed her harder.

"Why'd you stop?" She asked, pulling away. Her eyes were wild and she was breathless, her perfect chest heaving up and down against his as he panted for breath, too.

"Trying to get up the stairs without killing us both," he said. He took advantage of the break in kissing, as much as he hated the break, to take the last four stairs and turn to go down the hallway to her room at the end. He pressed his lips against her cheek, the warmth rising to the spot he kissed. He let his tongue dart out to taste her clean skin, finally landing on the spot that always got her that was halfway down her neck between her ear and her shoulder. She dropped her head back, the motion tightening her legs' grasp around him as her hips drove forward to rub against him. Even then, with the warm contact of her brushing against the most sensitive part of his body, the breathless moan she let out went through him _faster_.

They were in her room, thank God, but he didn't really know how. He wasn't going to worry about it right now. He was going to worry about the fire and he was going to feel every flame as it lapped at him where he stood. And he was going to enjoy it. This is what he had needed.

So many things flooded him, so much that he couldn't even put it into words. He didn't want to try putting it into words.

He set her down on the ground, trying to be careful but still feeling stinging disappointment as he feet reached the ground. Then again, their mouths were still dancing together, their tongues thrusting against each other. It was familiar. It was warm. It was wet. She reached her hands up and slipped the jacket down over his shoulders, down his arms and it fell to the ground, his keys and phone echoing a thump behind him. He reached his own hands up to pull her hair out of its loose ponytail. It poured through his fingers, the fire pulsing through him making him sensitive enough to feel every strand of liquid chocolate. She pressed her body close to his and their feet moved in a quick move, almost like a dance step, halted by the edge of the bed as they kissed desperately.

She gasped in surprise, but then pulled her waist away from his so she could climb up onto the bed. As she pressed her hands into the plush comforter to help get settled a little bit, he tugged down the zipper on her shirt. The tank top underneath was the soft, crinkly one with lace at the bottom. He loved it because when his fingers were on high-alert and feeling _everything _ like they were now, the rough texture sent a jolt of something hot down right down his spine and it pooled in his stomach and made him kiss her that much harder. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, hesitating a little bit to pull back and look at her. Her eyes were wide, the brown turned nearly black, and her hair was everywhere. She pulled her hands out of his hair to lift her arms straight up over the head.

Fuck if he needed any more invitation than that. He peeled the shirt away from her skin and there she was, totally topless in front of him. It was the first time he had actually seen her breasts, naked and in person instead of imagined and behind his eyelids.

Her breathing was off the charts as she watched his reaction to seeing her body. He looked at her eyes as he brushed a thumb across her nipple, dropping his curious gaze just in time to see it tighten with the contact. Her chest was still heaving, drawing his attention to her breasts. He brought his index finger and thumb together, experimentally pinching and her head fell back with a moan.

With that perfect exposure, he was helpless and he pressed his lips to the same spot that made her cry out a moment ago. Her reaction was even stronger now, with his hands on her chest at the same time. She grasped for the bottom of his shirt and tugged up, but he was too tall from where she was sitting on the bed. He lifted his hands up and pulled it off, watching her looking over him.

He had been shirtless before. The slight blush of her cheeks was nothing new, but it was still sweet and hot and it was all he needed to lean forward, using his motion rather than any force to lay her back on the mattress.

He kissed her again, his knuckles the only thing holding his weight off of her. Her tongue danced along his. The sharp taste of mint in her lip gloss rubbed against his tongue and cooled the fire but it was in a good way. She lifted her feet up to the bed, though, to give herself enough leverage to grind against him. He dropped down to one elbow and slid his other hand all the down her bare back to grab her ass through the jeans she wore like a second skin.

"You're so hot," he gasped. "I missed you. I wanted you." He moved his lips from her mouth to drag them down her chest. He didn't really know what to do here. They'd never gotten this far in their makeouts before. The feel of her skin, of his chest rubbing against hers as they insistently pressed against each other so intimately, was enough to set him totally on edge.

"I love you," she moaned. He paused and shot his head up.

"You do?" He asked. As hot as all of this was, he had never factored in love, really. He knew he loved her. He could still feel it all the way deep down, but he didn't think she still felt the same way.

"Of course I do," she said sadly. "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do," he said forcefully. "I always have." He kissed her again and again, moving slower and less urgently now. The words were almost like a bucket of cold water—but not quite. It just changed everything from a flash burn to something else entirely. It slowed their motions down, removed the urgency. He was flying high on her, the kisses they'd shared coursing through his veins; he could relax and take his time now.

She had other plans.

"You never asked me how I feel when you kiss me," she said casually.

He pulled back to look at her. "I…I assumed it was the same." He scowled. "It's not?"

She shrugged. "Well I guess there's no way for us to know because it's all subjective." He could feel her fingertips fluttering around her waist, brushing against his skin irregularly. What was she doing?

Before he could even process it, she had unbuttoned the fly on her pants, taken his hand and slipped it down inside. His jaw dropped and he felt all the tension in his body, even in his tired arms, coiling in the pit of his stomach. It was like it drew in all the fire, all the flames that had made his skin and his fingertips so sensitive, and focused it on his stomach. Then it dropped, like a lead weight, straight south.

He thought he had known _hard_ before. He'd had _no idea_. He gasped as he moved his fingers, feeling all the warmth and wetness that proved her desire for him. It was so hot he didn't know how his fingers weren't burned. Shit, maybe they were. He really could've cared less.

He retracted his hand and eased off her, but immediately reached for the waistband of her pants so he could get rid of the part that was cutting into his wrist. He moved her hips just enough to help him slide them down and she used her feet to first get tangled in, the wriggle free of her pants. He wasn't sure if she knew her underwear had been included in the mess of denim now on the floor, but she didn't seem to care as she looked back up at him uncertainly.

This is so much more than he had expected. There was no way he could go back to just _kissing_ now. No fucking _way. _If kissing was a drug… well, this was flying.

He swallowed, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth that was suddenly dry. He didn't know what to do from here. But he knew he had to do _something_ because she was already shaking and looking at him like she needed something.

He leaned over and kissed her again, running his hands over her body without the well-known interruption of clothing layers.

Finally, growing impatient with his feather-light touches and uncertainty, she reached down to undo his jeans and then used her feet to slide them over his hips. Much like she'd been unaware before, he didn't know she had managed to get his boxer shorts down with the rest of his clothes. He was pressed against her, totally naked and she was looking down at him curiously.

He was losing control of everything…of his breathing… he was pretty sure his heart was going to explode and fuck, was it even possible for your heart to stop run out of beats when you weren't quite seventeen and you were reasonably healthy?

He looked down at her, still looking at him curiously as she started to run her hands over his abdomen.

He had the answer. Yes. It was possible, because he was pretty sure he was already dead. Her fingers tickled against his thigh, so close to his erection and his hips charged forward beyond his control and brushed against her thigh as she dragged her tongue along his neck.

"Rach," he choked out.

"Hmm?" She asked, not moving her tongue or letting up as she pressed her lips to the spot and began to suck.

Not only had his heart stopped, his eyes were going to roll right back out of his head. Hadn't his mom told him once that if he rolled his eyes they would get stuck that way? He was pretty sure that was the case. And the image of Rachel underneath him and naked would be permanently engraved there, too.

"Rach," he rasped again, unable to come up with any other word.

She looked up at his face with a smile.

"You know, when we were dating," she began. Yeah, that tone took him down a notch. "I looked up solutions… you know, to help…"

Never mind. He was back to so turned on he might explode. She had thought that seriously about having sex with him? _Really_?

His hips were grinding against her now and there was no way he could control it. "…. and?"

When he finally pulled his eyes open and looked at her, she smiled. "And nothing. I decided it would be more fun to figure it out ourselves."

He pulled himself up on top of her and was shocked when her legs relaxed so she could cradle his body against hers.

"Rach…I…"

"This doesn't change anything," she whispered. She reached down to grasp him in her hand.

He rubbed his nose against hers. "Hang on," he said. She released him and he slid his tongue down her body slowly, finally resting on his knees on the floor beside her bed. He grabbed her hips to pull her toward him and then slid his tongue over the part of her anatomy she'd kept most hidden. Her hips charged up off the bed and she grabbed the comforter in her fingers.

"Finn, you don't have to…" her protest was cut off sharply when he slid a finger inside her.

Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing here. This was the most intimate thing he had ever done. All he knew was he wanted to make her feel good.

He remembered Puck saying something about an ice cream cone. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He really, _really_ didn't want to think about Puck right now. But at the same time, remembering all that hurt just gave him more motivation to do this right. Rachel had options. Ice cream cone.

She finally tugged on his head, the insistence of the motion dragging him up off his knees and back on top of her. He was practically numb, unable to hear her words or anything over the pounding of his heart and blood pulsing through his ears as she angled her hips.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked slowly. Okay, he heard _that_. Would she freak out if he admitted he did?

He swallowed once against his dry throat, still breathing hard. "Yeah," he finally said slowly. "Do you?"

She laughed out loud, and it broke through all the tension. Were they actually going to do this? This wasn't the point. Fuck, he'd just wanted to _kiss_ her. He had promised himself he'd never feel this unprepared for sex again.

He studied her face for just a minute before he broke to retrieve the condom from his wallet. He'd put it there after his first time with a silent promise to himself she was the only girl he would use it with.

Hey, even as he felt dirty and like a cheater and occasionally like a whore, in this moment he knew that he was at least not breaking that one promise he'd made to himself. And he wasn't breaking a promise he'd made to her either. Maybe he was finally learning.

He remembered the flash of motion that had been gloving up last time, and repeated it exactly before he laid back down on top of her. He could feel her shaking beneath him. Or wait… was that him shaking?

He kissed her again. He remembered the time his mom had taken him and Puck clear up to Columbus to go to an amusement park. Puck had talked him into doing one of those bungee jumping/sky diving things and the instructor had told them to just pull the ripcord and then they would be flying.

It was kind of like that, but hotter.

He watched her slowly; he had come over here driven by a need he didn't understand, the lust and love and anger all mixed together in a big pit. That didn't mean he wanted to _hurt_ her. If anything, he had come here first because he understood and it was the opposite. How could he do this with her when he hated himself already for what he had done to her?

Then her lips were at his ear, her tongue was dancing along the lobe and making him shutter and her breath was warm.

"Please?" She asked. He didn't even recognize the low growl of her voice. His hips rolled forward. A centimeter or so was all he'd needed anyway. It was like he was totally disconnected from his own body as they connected for the first time.

He moved slowly first, pulling back to watch her face even as he was so caught up in how it felt. She smiled awkwardly and then moved her leg to hook it over his hip, like she was acknowledging everything was okay and she was okay and it was like the ripcord again.

Falling. Flying. High. Like kissing only… on fire.

"Rach…" he groaned. He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Her breathing was too heavy for her to answer. Her hips were moving faster now, so were his. He remembered the first time they had danced together. It had been awkward at first because he didn't know where he could decently put his hands. And here they were, full circle and still feeling the same way.

It was hard to pretend he'd never lost anything in the middle parts.

They seemed to remember their dancing at the same time and he could feel everything…all the anger, all the loneliness and the hurt and the love and lust and just _everything_ gathering right in the middle of him. It was his heart, but it was physical, tangible, and all he could do was close his eyes and whisper her name into her hair as he held on as tight as he knew how.

They were both shaking for a long time; how long he didn't know. He finally pulled back enough to look over her face. She was sweaty and her hair was fanned out all around her on the blanket. Her legs were still wrapped around him but she was slowly relaxing and letting them down.

She offered him a watery smile and repeated her earlier words. "It still doesn't change anything, Finn."

It felt like his heart stopped beating. How in the hell did she do that? He was sixteen. He couldn't physically have a heart attack. Could he?

"No," he said slowly. "I still love you too much for my own good."

She blinked and sniffled. "Can you move, please?"

Her small request just about killed him but he did as she asked. He went into the small (and very pink, by the way) bathroom that was attached to her room to clean up a little bit. He couldn't even look at himself in the mirror before he went back out.

She was already dressed and his clothes were folded on her bed. He dressed quickly but watched her carefully, sneaking glances at her like they were sips of water during basketball practice.

He could look at her again without seeing red or feeling mad. He looked at her and it was just the good stuff again—the love and the wanting and the fire. How did she do that? He was sure she came with magical properties of some kind. But calling her a witch was probably not exactly the way to her heart.

Finn sat down in her desk chair to tie his tennis shoes. She went into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Rach," he began. "We really need to talk about this."

She didn't answer, at least not in words but he knew he heard a sniffle.

Once his shoes were tied, he pressed his hand against the door. How many times had he stood out here and begged her to come out? More than he could count probably. Her freak-outs had been enough to set him on edge, too, to make him feel like he was as crazy as she was. And yet, here he was, begging her for the chance to do it all again. This was so not what he'd had planned.

"Rach…"

When she flung open the door, she _was_ crying. But she smiled. "We don't need to. Why do we have to worry about tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I already told you this doesn't change anything. You know it doesn't." She shrugged. "I…I…"

She was usually not the one stuttering. He didn't really know what to do with that. So he moved two steps forward and kissed her—hard.

"Shut up," he said simply.

She reared back. "Excuse me?"

"Shut up," he said again. He smiled. "I just want to feel how I feel when I kiss _you_. That's all I want. I want to pretend like it didn't fall apart."

"But it did," she said firmly. "It fell apart and you kissed Quinn and you broke my heart and I broke your heart and if we pretend it never happened then it's just going to happen again."

He took a step away and dropped his head. "So… this is it, huh? You expect me to just leave and forget about all of it?" He moved forward again and put his hands on her shoulders. "This is what love is made of. If I leave without us figuring this out…"

"It's just going to happen again," she said. She nodded. She sniffled and raised her hands to wipe at her damp cheeks. "I'm not ready for all that, Finn."

"I'm ready for the good parts again. _I miss you_."

"I miss you, too."

"So let's just pretend it's always been okay."

"Why could you forgive Quinn and not me? What she did was _so much worse_." She finally blurted out.

She was standing in front of him, crying about the same old thing. There was no pretending, there was no going back. It would choke them, kind of like the words choked him. "Yeah, but what you did _hurt_ a lot worse because it was _you_." She watched him, but she knew he wasn't done yet. "And I never dealt with all that other stuff, I just put it away so I could be with you. So when it came back, it all came back and I took it out on you. And I'm sorry."

Her exhale was shaky and uncertain. "I'm sorry, too. You need space to deal with all of that. I'm not good at giving space."

He laughed. "No, you aren't. But I've had space and now… now all I have is loneliness and the fact that I miss you and I love you. I don't love her. I never really did."

She nodded and laughed a little, feeling stupid as she wiped at her damp eyes. "Well I guess we can pretend it never happened, then."

He nodded and pulled her against him. "Please?" He waited until he felt her relax against him before he asked his next question. "So, just one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Exactly what else have you researched when it comes to sex? Because I totally want your help figuring all that stuff out."

"Well, if it took you twenty-three days to explain how it feels when we kiss, I think it's going to take us a _lot_ longer to figure out intercourse."

"Yeah, I'll definitely need more practice," he agreed. She rolled her eyes and swatted at him again, but he didn't miss the way her hand lingered on his stomach as he rocked her back and forth in their embrace.

It was warm. It was safe. It was familiar.

But it wasn't fire.

At least not until he kissed her again.


	2. Chapter 2: Never Leave This Place

_**A/N:**__ I never planned on doing a sequel to this. It just sort of….happened. And now I think more might happen. I'm just ridiculous like that. This was inspired by __**Never Gonna Leave This Bed **__by __**Maroon 5.**__ Also, I know most people don't text message like this, but I can't help it. I do. I even use punctuation, much to my friends' mocking. So forgive me for spelling everything out._

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**Never Leave This Place**

Rachel slid down the door and sat in a girly puddle trying to reconcile everything that had just happened. Finn had asked to come over…she told him no…then he asked again and she agreed…five minutes and staying outside on the porch had taken a sudden turn.

That turn was the biggest thing that had ever happened to her.

He—Finn!—had made her _talk it out_. They had talked for a long time, they had kissed for longer, but nothing was resolved. They hadn't actually decided anything except for he had to go because his mom had called and asked where in the hell he was and demanded he come home immediately(per the grounding that had come attached to the mono).

When his mom had told him he needed to come home and rest, he had shot a dead-serious and worried glance toward Rachel. He reminded her he had mono and hadn't been told by a doctor he could kiss again without spreading his germs all over the place.

He told her that he remembered her slight cold a year ago all too well for him to possibly be okay with giving her mono. She sighed but didn't call him out on what he wasn't saying. She knew she was a huge baby when she was sick. He certainly wasn't going to want to take on Rachel with such a long-term illness. One month with sick-Rachel would feel like ten years to most people and she knew it; he had been kind not to actually say it.

She pulled her phone out of the hoodie she had secured before he had kissed her goodbye and left her knees totally weak. Thus, the sagging to the floor if one were keeping up. Once again, like so many things in her life, it was a boy's fault. Not just _any _boy, either.

Who could she tell about this or talk to about it? She kind of just wanted to squeal like a girl. The bad news was they had decided to keep it under wraps as far as the glee club went. Kurt, as a family member to Finn, was not a resource for either of them until they were ready for the information to be immediately disseminated.

That was a gross choice of words.

Anyway, that also meant that Mercedes was out. Jesse had sent her a couple of random texts (which she had deleted, by the way. And no, she didn't still have his number in her phone. He signed all of his texts 'JStJ – save this sig') but they certainly were not anything resembling friends. She had never even answered him back and had accidentally muttered a comment about the size of Jesse's balls at the dinner table after receiving one. Inevitably, when she thought about _him_, she thought about Shelby. There was just no way that could happen either, or even would happen if Rachel knew her number.

No, the only person she really knew outside of glee club was Blaine. He was the only person she could contact in case of this emergency. And while they hadn't been as close as she was getting with Kurt or Mercedes, he had this comfortable aura around him and wouldn't make her feel embarrassed or stupid for geeking out like the total girl and princess that she was.

_Blaine it's Rachel. I think I'm dying. Can you talk? _

Before she could even set her phone all the way down, it chimed. She picked it back up and flipped it open without even looking at who it was from.

_Did I tell you I love you and you're amazing?_

Her smile was quick, but not as quick as the rush of blood to her cheeks or the quick twinge from somewhere in her abdomen. She could feel the muscles tightening up and she knew she would probably be a little sore tomorrow.

_Just the way I am? _ She responded by way of a tease. It had been a well-worn joke following his mother's wedding.

Her phone beeped again. Blaine: _With Kurt. Text instead. I'm guessing you don't want him to know._

She sighed. Okay, well if Kurt and Blaine were out somewhere, Finn would probably just play some Madden or something for a while and go to bed. It was just as well. Even though it was Friday night, it was getting late and he was still recovering from his illness.

She fired off her quick reply to Blaine. _Yea. Finn just left here._ If she were in person, this would be the perfect place for a dramatic pause. Text was definitely not the best medium for her to express herself. _We had sex._ She bit her lip and hit the button. There was no way Kurt was going to escape Blaine's reaction. Finn was going to kill her. Then again, it was distinctly possible she was already dead or in the process of becoming dead.

Her phone beeped with Finn's reply, but it was still open so it popped right up on the screen. _Yes. I miss you. You should come over._

She looked at the clock again. It was nearly ten. Her weekend curfew was technically one, but her dads weren't extremely strict about it. Although it would be abnormal for her to leave this late, it wasn't entirely unheard of.

_I'm tired. And kinda sore. You're kinda grounded. I'm going to bed. You should too._ She hit send and smiled. She wondered what in the world he was going to say to that. She wondered if he was going to turn totally lewd now that he'd gotten some. She frowned. Was_ she_ going to?

No sooner had she sent Finn's message than a new one from Blaine popped up.

_Sorry, I think my phone is broken. What?_

She barked out a laugh and then raised a hand to cover her mouth. By the time she had stifled her laugh successfully, there was another message from Blaine. _Is this okay or are you freaking out?_

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Of course she was freaking out—was he serious?

_Yes. More than a little, _she replied to Blaine. The phone beeped again as she snapped it closed. She pulled it open.

Finn: _Come tuck me in._

Rachel shook her head and still couldn't fight the damn smile. She had smiled under direction before and knew it took a little while for her cheeks to start burning and for it to feel like her face was stuck that way, like she could be the Joker from Batman—just add heavy makeup. This was totally different. Her cheeks _did_ hurt already, but she still couldn't stop smiling.

Blaine: _Not an answer. Which one?_

She replied to Blaine first, a quick "_both_". Her reply to Finn had to be a little more well-crafted. She had to take control of this conversation (first time she could think of when Finn had the upper hand with anything between them), lest it end with her in his bed—apparently. That would defeat the purpose of him going home; plus, he was still grounded (technically) so how would that work exactly anyway? She was pretty sure she could charm Carole into letting her stay, as long as she didn't let on anything about the kissing…or the making out…or the _sex._

She and Finn had sex. They had _sex. They had sex._ She gasped and fired off another quick message to Blaine.

_I'm definitely freaking out. What are the symptoms of a heart attack? _

Blaine replied and she could almost hear the laughter in his response. _Pretty sure it starts with hot sex._

She rolled her eyes. That was decidedly unhelpful. Twelve hours ago at school she had been heartbroken and alone and sad. This was all moving at the speed of light and as much as she loved it, she was starting to feel overwhelmed and like she needed to slam on the brakes. At the same time, she was desperately afraid this was her second (or maybe eighth, but who was counting?) chance with Finn and she didn't want to blow it completely. She needed some able _relationship_ advice, but as she had already decided there were only so many places she could turn given the circumstances.

Then again, when she had relied on a source of outside comfort for anything it had directly been responsible for the entire demise of their relationship. She wanted to think, she knew, she had learned from that mistake and she wouldn't be making it again.

She toyed with her phone for a minute before she finally answered Finn. _Ask your mom._

Her phone chimed as she banged her head against her door again before she realized something: she'd left cookie dough in the freezer the last time she made sugar cookies. Finn loved her sugar cookies. Maybe, if the Hudson-Hummel parents were okay with it, she could take the dough over and they could bake cookies and watch a movie. It was a low-key activity and didn't require kissing. She wasn't sure who she thought _that_ would fool, but whatever. It was a thinly-veiled excuse, and she knew as long as she presented it that way, it would just be amusing instead of annoying. That was another line she was trying to learn how to walk. She felt like she'd maybe gotten better at it. After all…Finn had come back to _her_.

She had just resolved herself to do it when her phone chirped frantically.

Blaine: _OMG, you didn't really die did you?_ She rolled her eyes. Some help he would've been even if she had! She tossed off a reply: _Like you care_.

Finn: _You ask her. She likes you more._

Rachel chuckled. Her reply from Blaine came through and interrupted what she was typing to Finn.

Blaine: _Finn says come over and he'll make it up to you._

She rolled her eyes again. Of course they were all hanging out. Finn was really going to kill her now. If Finn knew she was texting Blaine, Kurt did for sure.

Rachel rose, pulling herself up from the floor and looked down at herself. This would just have to be good enough. But then again, it had been good enough earlier and she hadn't even planned on seeing him. Going with the flow was a new thing for her, but maybe she could try it and it would kind of be okay.

Before she could really think any further than dialing, there was a ringtone in her ear.

"Hello?" Finn's low voice said, dragging the word out. She wondered if he might've already been partway asleep. He sounded tired.

"Hello," she said, unable to keep that smile from tugging at her cheeks _again_. She felt pathetic but it was too hard to beat herself up about it when her heart was soaring.

"So much for keeping a secret." He grumbled; it sounded like maybe he had a smile that matched hers. "When did you and Blaine get to be such good friends, anyway?"

"I had to talk to someone," she said simply. "Are you mad?"

"No," he said, but his tone indicated more would follow. "But what did you say? Because now I think there are _two_ guys here picturing me naked. Seriously, they have porn in their eyes."

"First things first—is your mom home?" She asked. "I…" Her voice dropped a little as the sudden turns of the afternoon started catching up to her. While she and Finn hadn't been speaking, or much of anything, his family had moved into a new, bigger house. She hadn't been there, wasn't even entirely sure where it was other than it was somewhere in her own neighborhood instead of clear on the other side of the school boundaries. Whenever she and Kurt hung out, it was at her house or a coffee shop that was the midway point between McKinley and Dalton.

"I didn't know if you guys have a house phone," she admitted slowly. She hesitated to mention the last part.

"No, we don't," he said. She could hear rustling in the background that likely meant he was pushing himself up off the couch. "Have you been to my new house at all?" He couldn't remember seeing her there with Kurt, but Kurt hadn't been around much since Winter Break and he had been sleeping a lot even when Kurt was home. He could barely hear her answer because her voice was so small.

"No."

He almost had to pause on the stairs. They had wasted so much time—he had wasted it. Yes, she'd made him feel like total crap. Through it all, he felt justified with his huge step back, but even now just a few hours on the other side of fixing everything, all he could think was the time was wasted. They had missed Christmas… her birthday… Valentines' Day… and just so much of each other that it seemed kind of stupid now; now that he knew all he'd needed to do was face it instead of being a pansy. And sure, they had burned through all that energy in a way he hadn't seen coming at all, but once they had, they had talked through everything. And now he felt stupid for wasting time.

"Okay, well we should fix that," he offered gently. His mom was finishing up something in the kitchen and he briefly felt bad he wasn't there to do the dishes like he was supposed to. The kitchen cabinets were too tall for her to put everything away on most nights. He secretly kind of liked there was still something only he could do for her. It was easier to feel like he was still important as they were blending four individuals into a family.

"Okay," she said slowly.

"We should fix it _a lot_," he added, his voice still low and rough. It seemed like before he wasn't comfortable taking charge or saying what he really wanted to say. Maybe it was the feeling that he wasted time, maybe it was the feeling that trying to seem cool was the reason he had lost her for a while…but he was having a hard time keeping his mouth shut tonight and he thought maybe she liked it.

"I think the first step is asking permission," she said simply. He rolled his eyes as his mom turned around.

"Why are you still awake?" His mom asked, her tone gentle. He guessed, based on the fact this was the fourth person who said it, that he looked like crap.

"Rachel wanted to talk to you," he said, holding the phone out. His mom raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is there more than _one_ Rachel?" She asked, her voice dripping with interest.

It was all he could do not to explain further. "No," he choked out. There wasn't more than one Rachel. There was only one. There was only one girl he wanted to be with. She was everything.

"Is that where you were, even though you're grounded?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

He dropped the phone down to his side impatiently, burying the speaker against his leg so she hopefully couldn't hear.

"Maybe. Look, we…we're trying to work things out, Mom." He dropped his head. "And it sucks if she's there and I'm here and…Kurt and Blaine are downstairs so it's not like…"

"If you give another girl mono, I'm going to kick your ass," she said bluntly. She reached her hand out, palm up, for the phone. "But I'm glad you and Rachel are at least talking. You've been miserable, Finn."

"I know," he mumbled as he handed the phone over. He kept his head bowed but snuck cautious glances up to her as she chatted a little with Rachel. It had never bothered him that his mom and his girlfriend got along. After all, his mom was important to him and he never thought Rachel could be so just…sweet…to any sort of an authority figure. But she and his mom engaged in girl talk and had even gone shopping a couple of times. He could tell from the early tone of their conversation that his mom had missed Rachel as much as he had.

Well, _almost_.

Okay, yeah, not even close.

While he was busy thinking about all that, his mom had said whatever she had to say and hung up the phone. She looked at him expectantly. "Finn, I'm proud of you."

He was confused. "For what?" He reached out slowly to take his phone back from her.

"Sweetheart, I've never really given you a model for a healthy relationship until now. You're kind of flying blind with this whole thing. Admittedly, I don't know all the details and I don't want to, but I know you and Rachel have had a hard time because you're both still growing up. It takes a lot to swallow your pride and to work out hurt feelings with someone you love, but that's the kind of stuff that makes your relationship last." She put a hand on his arm. "Just two requests."

He was starting to get a little uncomfortable, the heat of it rising up into his cheeks a little and his eyes shifted off to the side. "Okay."

"Go slow. There are…certain things…that make your relationship too serious, too fast," she began. "So go slow. And do not, under any circumstances, give that girl mono. Do you hear me?"

"I think Rachel with mono would ruin my life," he agreed with a slight grin. He was kind of glad Rachel hadn't forced him to say it earlier because he was trying really hard to be nice, but she was a total pain in the ass when she was sick. If she was sick with something that lasted longer than, like, the weekend, it would really suck. And he knew how mono felt. He could only imagine how much Funny Girl was in his future if she ever felt this way.

Carole had heard all about Rachel's spell with tonsillitis from Finn the first time when he begged for ideas to help her with perspective—even then it had been totally clear that he was a perfect sort of guy to offset her drama-queen freak-outs. It had been Carole's suggestion to let Rachel meet Sean in the first place back then. This time, she laughed. Her son really did know this girl well; she could only hope things would go smoothly for them for a little while.

"Okay, well, she already said she has to be home by one anyway, so just don't fall asleep. Or have Kurt make sure she gets home."

He nodded and looked down at his phone with disappointment. It seemed stupid, considering she was obviously on her way over, but he had kind of wanted to say goodbye.

He wandered back downstairs, palming his phone into his pocket. Kurt and Blaine were watching some movie that he was pretty sure he didn't want to even fake an interest in watching, even if was for only about ten minutes until Rachel arrived. Thankfully, his phone rang from his pocket and it seemed to earn their attention, so maybe the movie wasn't very good.

"Hey, Rach," he said. He had never changed her ringtone; he knew it was her.

"Hey," she said. "I forgot to get your address."

"Oh," he said. He fought the urge to sigh. It was really weird to him that she didn't know anything about where he lived now, where he had lived for almost a full month. It made him a little sad. He talked quickly, keeping his voice low so he didn't interrupt the other boys too much. This time he at least got to say goodbye and it was sealed with the promise that she would see him in a matter of minutes.

The conversation had totally thrown him off his thoughts before and he forgot he wasn't actually interested. "What are you watching?"

Kurt gasped. "You've never seen _French Kiss_? Maybe we should start it over."

Finn scowled and shook his head. "I think I'm okay."

"No, this movie is _so_ romantic-" Kurt started, only to be cut off by Blaine.

"—Falling in love through a chance encounter—"

"—Right up your alley, doing a classic sort of leave behind maneuver, but…wait, that would require you to plan something—" Kurt mused.

Finn watched them, his jaw going slack, and wondered if either one realized they were talking right over each other, never mind being aware of what they were saying.

"Wow," he said simply. "Come get me when Rachel gets here. I'll be in my room," he said simply, turning around to make a quick getaway. Could you catch crazy? Probably not or he would've already gotten it from Rachel.

As he walked into his room, he looked around. It was just another thing that he'd slacked off on while she was missing from his world: keeping his room clean. When there was the possibility of making out with her in his bed, he made sure the sheets stayed clean and the bed was made. He tried to make sure he didn't leave food or anything too nasty in his room so that it wouldn't smell like total garbage. His mom had even commented on how much she appreciated him keeping his football gear in the garage so it didn't stink up his whole closet. Then they had moved, Rachel was gone, and he had kind of returned to status quo. At least basketball was over so there wasn't any stinky sports stuff laying around.

…except for maybe him. He wrinkled his nose. She'd had _sex_ with him and he smelled like this? He decided a quick shower might be a good idea.

It was the first time in like two months he sang while he was in the shower, and after rocking through some Def Leppard, he was unsurprised to hear Rachel's voice mixing with Kurt and Blaine's out in the common area of the basement. He had brought his clothes into the bathroom with him and dressed quickly, trying not to seem anxious even as his heart beat sped up just knowing she was near and finally, finally in his house.

As he tugged on the basketball shorts he had grabbed, he paused. He normally didn't wear underwear with his basketball clothes (and that was _not_ public information, by the way) and so just out of habit he hadn't grabbed any before he came in. But, as with everything in the last hour, he was revisiting it now through the eyes of a boyfriend. What would she think if he wasn't wearing underwear? Because truly, the chances that she would notice were a lot more now than ever before. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

He felt a little stupid and goofy, but he didn't want to do anything that would mean it took him longer to see her. So as soon as he tugged the clean t-shirt over his head, he walked out into the main living area with his hair still wet and sticking up everywhere. He was actually still pulling it into place as he entered the living room and saw her face light up. Okay, that made him feel like maybe the coolest guy in the world. How could he have been such an idiot to put everything above that? It made him feel stronger, taller, and a little more comfortable in his own skin. She made him feel better.

She just made_ him_ better.

Rachel turned her head, hearing footsteps come down the hallway, and saw him still getting his shirt situated. She knew she would've felt embarrassed to watch him get dressed if he had come walking down the hall that way the last time they were together. This time, it felt a little wanton to watch the trail of hair that led away from his belly button disappear and to find herself wondering how long it would take her to uncover it again. Even as she smiled, she bit her lip. She was no good with restraint, she knew that, but she was going to try.

They had jumped into the deep end just a little bit too fast and, as much as she liked…swimming…she knew she needed to back off a little bit.

"Hey," he said slowly as he approached. He stopped at the back of the couch and bent down to kiss her forehead. "What took you so long?"

"Traffic," she joked lightly, prompting Kurt to roll his eyes.

"Can you two flirt somewhere else please? It's lame, it's awkward for the rest of us and my movie has been paused so long the DVD player shut off." He teased without any sort of annoyance to his voice. Blaine flipped a hand out to hit him in the stomach.

"There is nothing wrong with watching a mating ritual," Blaine said with a smirk. "It's just free entertainment; although maybe next time they'll bring popcorn."

Finn had already grown used to this from their presence, and for once it was kind of nice that it was directed to him as part of something else instead of just by himself. "Well, I'll definitely bring something I can throw at your face," he muttered.

Rachel stood up and held her hand out to Finn. "Well, I did bring something but it kind of requires you to come upstairs."

He took her hand willingly, but didn't let her lead him anywhere just yet. "I was kind of hoping to just lay low," he admitted as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Well, we can do that in a few minutes," she said slowly. "I _know_ you've been missing what I brought."

Kurt's jaw flapped open and Blaine burst into a rather violent giggle as his face quickly turned purple.

"I kind of miss being an only child," Finn said, finally letting Rachel pull him away. He shook his head. "How's that working out for you these days?"

She smiled and moved closer to him, unable to help herself any longer. His arm went slack and she had barely moved, so he was effectively pulled in and she was already looking at his mouth when she spoke her next, whispery words. "Great. Especially when my dad has a big case in Nati starting next Wednesday so both my parents will be gone for at least a week. I'll have a big house all to myself." She was up on her toes and his eyebrows raised in interest as he bent down to meet her in the middle. There was all this space to close when they kissed and it sucked because all he really wanted to do was be there.

"Mono," Kurt said loudly, the word disguised poorly as a cough. Finn flipped him off and Rachel looked amused.

"See, I think being a big brother has worked out okay for you," she commented lightly, continuing to walk backward as he moved forward to stay close to her.

"It has its benefits," he admitted and he dropped his voice down as they walked up the stairs, letting her pull him as she continued to walk backward. She was much better suited for that than he was, as the more graceful member of the pair. He dropped his voice down as they walked up the stairs. In some ways, he was sick of all the talking they'd done tonight. In other ways, it had been a while since he'd actually had someone (okay, not just someone but _her_ ) to talk about everything in his life with. He wanted her perspective, her comfort, and even some of those crazy ideas he always teased her about. He wanted all that back and it was like he couldn't even stop himself from just spitting out every thought he had when he was with her because he knew she was always listening for it. He could just be himself.

"I just wish I had realized it soon enough to stop him from transferring schools," he admitted.

She stopped walking and moved her hands up to his shoulders, their height difference changed drastically by their uneven footing on the stairs.

"Well…" she said slowly. "It seems like maybe Dalton is working out better for him."

He let out a deep breath. "Maybe."

"Finn," she said, her voice stopping suddenly. She looked away before she took a deep breath and then looked directly at his face, her liquid brown eyes certain and her voice reinforcing itself before she started again. "There is no point in beating yourself up for the past anymore. You let him down. But all you can do now is move forward. And if you're sure that's what you want, then stop looking backward."

"Are you gonna take your own advice?" He asked, not backing down as he looked at her. He saw her try not to flinch.

She nodded slowly. "I'm all done looking back," she confirmed. "I had a lesson to learn and I did it the hard way."

"You usually do," he said.

"I can't promise I won't keep making things hard."

"I know," he sighed.

"I'll try not to," she breathed. Her voice was starting to shake a little.

"I know," he said, finally giving her a kiss that was more like a habit than something he had to think about. He ran his hands over her hair and caught her cheeks between his hands. "Just…please don't try to make me jealous anymore, okay?" He was holding her firmly and she could barely nod. He gave her another small kiss and released her, then looked around and realized exactly where they were standing. "I'm not sure the middle of our stairs is the best place for this."

She laughed. "Come on. I promised you a surprise," she said as she reclaimed his hand. This time she turned around and jogged up the last few stairs with a new energy and he remembered again that he was totally tired.

He tried really hard not to look confused when she handed him a cold, kind of heavy Tupperware container. He flipped it to the side to look through the white plastic and see what might be inside, but the lump was unidentifiable. "Umm…thanks?"

"Well, I made my dads cookies for Valentine's Day, and realized that I doubled the batch on accident because I was used to baking for you," she admitted without looking at him. "So that's the dough I put in the freezer. I thought I would make your Valentine for you now if you wanted it."

"Awesome," was all he said in quiet reply. She seemed a little encouraged when he didn't say anything else, and he stopped there instead of saying all the words that were in his head because it had been a while since he encouraged her and saw that particular smile that he loved. He didn't want to wreck it, and he thought maybe it was true that they had both learned something.

She had apparently chatted with his mom a little bit about this and his mom had set out all the stuff they needed—the rolling pin, some waxed paper, cookie sheets. Rachel struggled for a second to turn on the fancy new stove Burt had installed right before they moved, but she figured it out and directed him to roll out the dough as she produced three different sizes of cookie cutters from a small reusable grocery bag she had obviously brought along.

She needed his help grabbing a bowl from the top of a cupboard and then gave him instructions on how to cut out the shapes from the dough he'd rolled while she started mixing frosting. He teased her when he realized the cookie cutters were star shaped instead of hearts; he learned that Rachel Berry Valentine's cookies weren't heart-shaped.

Somehow, though, that was the shape she took in his life and, even as he had been way more open and just blurted out a lot of the stuff he'd been thinking, he didn't tell her that one.

For the first time, he realized how much work Rachel had actually put into baking for him over the months they were dating last time. He had never thought about it before until he watched her in action, and he thought maybe she was even more amazing. Carole and Burt were in and out of the kitchen and Finn thought he saw Rachel bite back tears as his mom hugged her tight and welcomed her back.

He managed to get the tears out of her eyes by dotting the frosting she'd made on her nose. Carole came out, taking Rachel up on her offer of some frosted cookies right before the parents of the house headed to bed for the night, and threatened him within an inch of his life if he kissed or licked the frosting off her face in any sort of a way that would swap his 'contaminated spit'. Both he and Rachel were grossed out enough at the way she said it that they opted for a warm washcloth instead.

It was nearly eleven-thirty by the time they headed downstairs with two huge plates of cookies. Kurt and Blaine were like half aware of their surroundings, both tied up in the movie they were watching and partway asleep, but mumbled their thanks before Finn offered to introduce Rachel to the rest of the house (meaning his bedroom, because that and the bathroom were the last places she hadn't seen).

As she looked around the room, she smiled a little.

"It looks exactly the same, somehow."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, I would hope not. The bed is twice the size," he said easily. "Come to think of it, so is the television." He looked around a little. "And the whole room."

She laughed as she took the plate of cookies from him and set it on his desk.

"How do you like having more space?" She asked, leaning back against the wooden chair that sat on his desk.

He heard a lot of different things in her words, things he couldn't explain, and when she looked up at him, he saw those same things in her eyes. This was all changing so fast it was catching up to them both. He wasn't sure how to slow it down.

And neither was she, because as she looked at him across the room, unable to keep all her doubt and uncertainty that this was right out of her eyes, it still felt like combustion. For as careful as they had been before (or really, as careful as she had demanded they be), she now knew why. They were playing with fire, but she just wanted to keep playing.

They watched each other for a minute, no words leaving their lips but a whole conversation still passing between them, thickening and charging the air around them. Rachel reached behind her blindly to flip on the radio without paying attention to what she even turned on. All she knew was they would need _something_ to cover it when all those words finally came out.

He moved a lot slower this time than he had this afternoon, and she waited for him to come to her. The room being bigger didn't matter right now; he crossed in three strides to her and didn't move his eyes from her face as he dragged his fingertips up her arms and then let them brush over her shoulders and chest, finally stopping on the zipper before he pinched his fingers together to grab on and drag it down the front of her body. She watched him, felt her breathing catch like the zipper did about halfway down. He brought his other hand up, placing it on her flat stomach to hold the fabric in place so he could finish unzipping the jacket.

Everything about their earlier exchange had been fast and reckless. This time, it was on purpose. She leaned back a little on the chair, raising her leg up to prop it against the seat. Her grip on it tightened as he slid the loose jacket over her bare shoulders. His eyes dropped for the first time as he slid the warm cotton away from her. She kept watching him as she moved her hands to lean forward so the jacket could fall. His fingers ran up over her shoulders, tracing idly at the spaghetti straps of her camisole tank top before he let them brush over her chest, over the crinkled cotton fabric he was still watching her even as he moved in slowly, painfully slowly, to kiss her before he twisted the fabric into his fist to pull her closer.

She folded easily against him, her fingers instantly lingering at his waist, tickling at his stomach and the hair-roughened patch of skin she had watched disappear earlier while he was walking down the hall toward her. She felt his muscles tighten under her fingers, the warmth of him spreading through her fingers and all the way up into their kiss, where their tongues were gliding along each other with a practiced dance.

His hand hooked around to her hip and he dug his fingers into her skin a little as he pried her away from the chair and helped her stumble over toward his bed. The queen-sized bed was tall enough she had to climb a little bit to get onto the mattress, but she managed to do it without breaking their kiss. He couldn't help it, he moaned as he pulled away enough for one deep, raspy breath, and in the same moment he peeled the shirt away from her body, leaving her topless on his bed. Her eyes were watching him, wide and curious, but taking it all in. Everything had happened so fast this afternoon that she was soaking in this time with all of its slower pacing. As she lowered her arms from where she'd raised them to help him out, she wrapped the hemline of his t-shirt up in her fingers, pushing it up and dragging her fingers right behind it. He let out a gasping breath, the simple contact leaving tingly fingers of fire across his stomach, only to be slightly quenched and then ignite again when she leaned forward to press her tongue right behind her fingers.

Her hands continued moving up as she kissed at him. There had been a time when he felt self-conscious about being exposed, but when she was licking at him like that it was impossible to be aware of anything but how her tongue felt against his skin. He took a step toward her and it gave her the confidence to do the next thing she had in mind. He finished pulling his shirt off, all but ripping the fabric out of her fingers when it was obvious she couldn't reach any higher. All he could do was watch as she moved her hands to the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down, following that motion by sliding off the bed and onto her knees even as her tongue darted out. His eyes widened and he wasn't sure if it was in surprise or because he wanted to commit every second of this to his memory.

That thought was gone, along with everything else, as he felt her tongue brush against his erection. His mouth fell open and his eyes closed and a slightly choked sound escaped his mouth as his heart pressed against his chest, its throbbing beats matching the pull of his hips. He focused on holding them still as much as possible.

She vaguely remembered the guidance counselor telling her not having a gag reflex would be a gift when she grew up; when she thought about it in this context, she totally understood why. She let her eyes open and drift up Finn's tall body. She couldn't see his face from where she had sunk in front of him, but if the noises he was making were anything to go off of, she had time to test the guidance counselor's theory. She was surprised that she actually _wanted_ to in this moment.

His hands brushed over her hair, moving frantically as her tongue took a full tour of the new territory. She listened to his gasped sounds, noted what made his hips jerk free of his control, and as she opened her mouth to take him in entirely, she was surprised to feel his muscles pulsing against her lips when he moved in earnest against her mouth. She slid her hands over his thighs and around to goose him, her hands pressing into his skin and encouraging him to let his body move. She was aware of his head swinging around and dropping to watch her, but she closed her eyes and let his firm strokes against her wet lips set the rhythm.

Finally, he pulled away entirely, actually taking a step back and gasping as he brought his eyes open.

"Did I…did I do something wrong?" She asked, her voice unsteady as she watched him. She could see his pectoral muscle thumping, pounding.

"No," he said simply. "God, no." She raised her eyebrows and watched him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. Instead, he stooped down to pull her up. "You're amazing," he said simply, still swallowing and gasping for words. "I just….I…." he shook his head, knowing he was never going to get any actual words out, so he pressed his mouth to hers, crushing her body to his and kissing her deeply. He wondered for a second if his tongue could sink as far into her mouth as she had just taken him in, but he couldn't press her to him and unbutton her jeans at the same time. He set her carefully on the bed and stripped off her remaining clothing, taking the time this go-round to drop his mouth to her legs and follow the waistband of her pants all the way down. As he kissed back up, he felt her legs relax as he kissed at the back of her knees.

Really? That was hot? He let his tongue out of his mouth to follow the crease at the back and she groaned. He smiled. Man, he thought he'd enjoyed that little hopeful smile she had earlier? This was at least a thousand times better plus he felt his erection surge a little bit with that kind of a reaction.

She reached backwards, fumbling around the soft comforter, flailing a little bit and grunting out her frustration.

He leaned forward to prop himself up over her body, taking all the strength he had left not to collapse as he felt her bare legs sliding around his and the bottom of her feet at the curve of his butt. "What do you need?" He asked. He didn't even recognize his own voice, it was so charged with want. He could barely choke the words out.

"Condom," she said simply.

He couldn't deny he wanted that too. But as he looked at her, he kind of wondered if he could earn that moan again like when he'd kissed behind her knees. He sat back enough he could slip a hand down in between them. He had tried going down on her before, and as fun as that was, he wanted to watch her face. This was the best way he could think of to do that. They had plenty of time for all the other stuff.

He was surprised as he swiped his finger through the folds of her sex at how wet and silky the skin was. Her mouth came open but she didn't make any noise. He took another pass and felt her knees relax even more.

_Damn._

He looked down, the visual of her spread open for him almost too much. He retracted his hand from her long enough to wrap it around the base of his erection and squeeze tight until he could actually breathe a little bit. He remembered vaguely that he had felt exhausted before she got here, but now he wasn't sure he'd ever felt more alive, more on fire.

He brushed his finger back over her again, noticing the way her hips jerked up when he hit just the right spot. He settled his thumb onto that spot and moved it around, sliding over the superheated skin easily as she let out a high-pitched gasp.

This was why they should go slow. He didn't know what to do here. He needed her to tell him, but he wasn't sure she would or she could.

"Rach…" he said, keeping his voice soft so it would hide under the cover of walls and music, even if someone were outside. "Show me what to do."

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

"Is this how you touch yourself?" He asked. Blood rushed, throbbed through his ears and he could barely hear himself talk. She nodded, her cheeks flushing a little more deeply than they had.

"I've never…not…show me what you do," he managed, reaching up to take her hand.

She was so exposed, so on fire and needing release, it didn't occur to her to be embarrassed as she let him guide her hand. She didn't use words, knew she couldn't because her breathing was too erratic as she pressed her fingers into her own flesh, his brushing over hers as she set a rhythm of circles.

He watched her move both their hands expertly over her own body and he couldn't deny the way it tugged on his hips, made his body hum and want to be buried inside her again. He closed his eyes, desperately fighting the war of wanting to watch but being unsure he could stand it much longer. She finally grabbed his hand and pressed it back into her, but she had given him what he asked for and as he plunged two fingers inside her, he let his thumb move the way she had showed him. He had to pull back a little so he could place a hand flat on her stomach to hold her still as she pulled tight peaks of blanket into each hand.

"Finn…" she gasped out. She was like a cheerleader, driving him on. He smiled and looked up at her, hair spread out all over his blanket and her eyes closed with long eyelashes against pink cheeks. Her lips were swollen and deep red from their long, slow kisses, and her face was crumpled into concentration as her head moved back and forth. His motion grew more insistent and, when her eyes flew open he couldn't look away. She pressed against his hand and drove his fingers into her body as far as they would go as she breathed out one short pant followed by an almost helpless squeak. He could feel her muscles latching onto him, the warmth flooding over his fingers as the silk turned to wet fire that threatened to engulf him whole. He could already feel pride taking over and he pushed it back down, almost relieved she trusted him enough to let him see her like this, staring into her eyes as she came undone and a hundred thousand things flickered over her face.

When she relaxed a little and he pulled away, it occurred to him he hadn't earned the moan he was aiming for again. He fought the smile that threatened and made it a goal for next time. He leaned over her, reaching at the nightstand and finally coming up with a condom from the drawer he didn't bother closing.

She took the package from his hand, not watching as she opened the wrapper and took it out. She finally tore her eyes away from his long enough to watch what she was doing as she sheathed him entirely, rolling the condom down over his painfully hard erection with ease.

He brought his hand up to her face, brushing the bangs away from her face and then leaning forward in a sort of pushup to give her a tender kiss. He finally dropped his body on top of hers, going slow and easy, letting his kiss warm her up all over again even though she didn't really need it. They kissed with building intensity until she put her hand on his face.

"I love you," she whispered. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she moved her legs and dropped a hand down to position him at her entrance.

"I love you more," he breathed as he sank into her. She was still so tight, fitting around him like a velvet glove, but there was no hesitation and no resistance this time. And as she moaned, a little more what he had been going for previously, he knew she was fine. There was no pain and he didn't have to worry. They could go slow and really make love.

She watched his eyes dancing over her face and knew this is what she wanted. Sex was good and all, but she wanted the whole thing—the sweetness, the tenderness, and _him._ Just him.

He moved slowly, feeling her wiggle a little underneath him until they settled into a give-and-take with slow, long strokes. He pressed his forehead to hers, rubbing his nose against her a little bit. By the time she slid her tongue over his bottom lip, he had started to shake a little bit. By the time she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, he could feel the continuing grip from the aftershocks of her own orgasm.

By the time she ran her fingers over his hairline and her eyes opened again, the fire that had built slowly inside him exploded and he grunted as he pressed his lips against her, helpless to stop it from being over. Even as he knew it was (at least for this minute), he just wanted it to last forever.

There was no urgency this time as they dressed. He helped her pull her clothes on, which felt a little backwards and made him laugh as he tugged the zipper on her sweatshirt all the way up to the top. Once she was settled, he pulled on his shorts and then poked a head out into the hall to make sure no one was coming before he stepped across to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

She was reclined on his bed when he returned, her eyes sleepily coming open and her lips spreading into a soft smile as he settled in right next to her and then pulled the blanket up over them both. She settled into his body, pressing her back tightly into his chest even as he bent his legs to form them to the back of hers. He wanted to touch as much of her as he could.

"I'm never going to walk away again," he said. He kissed her hair and felt her fingers lace through his. "Just so you know."

"Well, just so you know, I might never leave this bed," she admitted and she took a deep, contented breath.

"I might never let you," Finn retorted. "I'm not a total idiot."

She gave a half-asleep chuckle and he sighed. He didn't ever want to leave this bed again, either.

Later that night, laying in her own bed, she was three-quarters of the way toward an exhausted, pleasant dream when her phone buzzed from the nightstand.

"Hello?" She answered eventually, not even really moving from underneath the covers or bothering to open her eyes.

"Did I forget to tell you I love you?" He mumbled. "Because I really, really love you."

"I love you too."

"I wish you were here," he breathed. He was most of the way asleep, she could tell just by the stretch of his words. She didn't hang up, but she didn't answer either; it was the closest they could come to sleeping next to each other, and neither one of them would be able to say who hung up first that night, but they always swore it was the other one.


	3. Chapter 3: Never Want to Stop

_**A/N: **__ Thanks for the phenomenal response to this story. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I'm so grateful for the feedback. I will try to reply individually but my notifications have been struggling so.. yeah. Please don't let that stop you from replying and letting me know what you think, though! I hope you enjoy! The song that sparked this part is __**Start a Fire **__by __**Ryan Star.**__ God, he's hot. Anyway… _

_**Disclaimer: **__ I don't own it. No infringement is intended. I didn't break it so I don't have to buy it._

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Finn sat at the kitchen table, flipping his phone around and around in his hand. It had been a whole week since he and Rachel had gotten back together. He thought he'd understood need and that burning feeling from kissing her before.

It was nothing compared to how he felt after a week of his mom keeping him busy so he hadn't had time to see her. And yes, it was partly because Carole knew her dads were out of town (seriously, when had the parental foursome started getting along and communicating so well?), but that just seemed to make the desire to be there worse.

Sure, he'd seen her at school and they had been busily getting ready for Regionals and baseball would be starting so he'd been working out harder and more often. Plus she had a dance recital thing coming up at the end of their own spring break next week and she'd been working super hard on that. But all the physical activity didn't matter because he'd barely even been able to sneak a kiss or two over the entire week and life just wasn't fair because if he'd thought it was hard _wanting_ before he'd actually had her, then this was beyond anything he had ever imagined. The combination of keeping their relationship redo off the gossip radar and his mom cracking down on his grounding was going to be the death of him.

All he had to do was hear her voice floating down the hall at school and he was hard. Dancing with her in Glee had been an exercise in torture and he'd almost been caught jerking off in the shower in the locker room no less than four times. Again, saying a lot, because he _never_ did that at school. Never until now, that was.

"You know, I really thought we'd stop meeting like this once you and Rachel got back together," Kurt remarked dryly. He reached out to open the cupboard and retrieve a glass.

"I thought your ungrounded ass was headed out with your boyfriend," Finn muttered bitterly.

"It is," Kurt added. He sighed. "The problem is that you're grounded."

"That's one of, like, three problems." Finn said. He sighed and looked up at Kurt. "But really, don't let my total misery stop you from enjoying your Friday night."

Kurt ignored the last part and sat down at the table. "What are the other two problems?" He leaned in carefully, having the slight inclination to believe that one of the problems was also Carole, because he had noticed that Carole was riding Finn unusually hard about everything this week. Curfews, accounting for time, homework being done, being prepared to start baseball...it seemed like all of it was a huge source of parental nagging for poor Finn, and he'd done basically nothing wrong. Well…Carole didn't know all the details of Finn and Rachel's reunion, but she was certainly using the fact that they were back together as an excuse to swoop in with a hawk-eyed schedule of supervision.

"Well, you already know mom's been riding my ass _hard_," he said simply. "It's just been worse the last few days because Rachel's dads are out of town and I don't even know how she knows about that."

"Ah," Kurt said, sitting back a little bit. Well, that made a little bit of sense. Dalton's spring break had ended and he'd gone back to school on Monday, so he hadn't been privy to that information necessarily. He had only received a few short bursts of text from a very frustrated Rachel, and then had received no response from Finn.

"And the other problem is… well…" Finn sighed. They'd only had sex twice. He didn't have enough practice with any of this yet to understand exactly how Rachel wanted him to handle it. He at least had enough practice dealing with her that he knew there was going to be some sort of instruction manual with it. "I know Rachel texted Blaine that night and told him…"

Plus, it was seriously weird to even broach this topic with Kurt. And no, Burt, it didn't have anything to do with Kurt being gay. It was his personality. Truth be told, Finn was barely comfortable discussing sex with Rachel and she had almost the same personality as Kurt. She would turn beet red even if he started using proper terminology and …well, he'd learned a lot of what he knew from Puck. He didn't even know a lot of the "right" words.

"That you had sex," Kurt prompted.

"Yeah. Well, it's just…I just…" Okay, maybe he was part of the turning red category, too.

Kurt raised his hands to his mouth. "Oh my God. Seriously? It's that bad?"

Finn's filter didn't kick in before he spoke and after a split second, guided by the horrified look on Kurt's face, he wished it would have. "My balls hurt _all the time_."

Kurt pressed his lips inside his mouth and bit down to try not to laugh. He couldn't say he knew how it felt but he knew he didn't want any further detail. Finn, for his part, dropped his head and bounced his forehead on the table a couple of times with loud thunks and then really, really didn't want to pull it back up.

While Finn was otherwise indisposed to his total humiliation and the _did I say that out loud_ of it all, Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and used one hand to fire off a quick text to Blaine. He knew a couple of the guys from warblers were doing some sort of overnight movie-watching thing at his home in Dublin and Blaine was on the way to pick him up (he'd come home this afternoon because Burt had an appointment with a cardiologist and the only way Kurt could ever get any actual information from his 'play it cool' dad was to actually attend and speak with the doctor). He felt bad for having Blaine drive all that way, but transportation had been a mess and… yeah. He sent Blaine a quick text.

_Is Rachel still texting you? Does she have plans?_

He sighed and watched Finn. He really did feel for him, in some sort of a way. Once he and Blaine had gotten together, he had realized how tight the supervision actually was in the dorms at Dalton and it had been hard to find private time together. More often than not, that's why Kurt came home and brought Blaine with him (nothing like that, Blaine stayed in the guest room downstairs…usually). So if the Hudson-Hummel parents had cracked down on him the way they had on Finn, there was just no way. And Finn had already been aching for Rachel for so long, it was like the cruel universe insisted he'd have no more than a taste.

His phone beeped and Finn raised his head at the sound to see Kurt flipping through the touchscreen to retrieve the message. _Yes and no. She's so mad at Carole._

Kurt ignored Finn's curious glance and responded. _Finn is too. We should help._

"Blaine's on his way," Kurt said quietly.

"Great. At least one of us gets to have a social life. Get some for me, would you?" Finn mumbled, plainly just feeling sorry for himself. He turned his head and pressed his cheek to the table. "Rachel won't even text me back." He tucked his hands, holding his phone, into his lap, and stayed hunched over. His words were slightly garbled by the press of his cheek to wood.

"You're pretty pathetic, you know that?" Kurt offered. Carole was just coming into the kitchen. She frowned when she saw Finn.

"Are you _still_ feeling tired all the time?" She asked. She rested a hand in his hair.

"Something like that," Finn muttered. He closed his eyes and Kurt valiantly fought not to giggle.

Kurt's phone beeped and he scrolled past the security screen to get the message. _Invite him to go with us. We'll just drop him at her house. She's totally okay with it. _ Kurt inhaled sharply but tried not to give anything away as he stared at his phone. It seemed like a perfect plan. That way, Finn's car wouldn't be visible outside her house for either a passing parent or nosy neighbor. He was dead sure, in addition to Carole's crackdown, the Berry dads had someone watching the homestead in their absence. They may have trusted Rachel, but that didn't mean they trusted her friends not to try sneaking in. Kurt had a feeling it was mostly Puck they were worried about because he had a tendency to show up as soon as parents left anywhere.

"Carole, I actually wanted to ask if I could borrow Finn for the evening," he finally piped up, diverting his eyes from the phone up to her face.

"He's grounded," she said simply.

Finn's phone buzzed in his hand and he turned his head so he could look at it in the privacy of his lap.

_Go along with whatever Kurt says. He and Blaine have a plan. XO*_

"Yes, but it's a boys-only activity and I believe the grounding was contingent on him not spreading his foul kissing disease."

"Boys-only?" Carole asked. "No offense, Kurt, but…"

"It's with the Warblers. We're spending the night at one of the upper classmen homes playing karaoke games. We have a severe baritone shortage," he said simply. He knew Carole would be utterly lost with his sentence, but that was even better. Finn lifted his head up from the table and opened his mouth. Kurt cut him off with a sharp glance before he looked back up to Carole. Doubt was written all over her face.

Surprisingly, Finn was the first one that thought of the ultimate guilt trip that would push her over the edge into granting permission. Of course, knowing it didn't somehow involve Puck was a huge bonus, but… "C'mon mom. Think of it like a brother thing. I mean, since Kurt is staying at Dalton now, wouldn't it just be him taking his brother along to get to know his friends?"

Kurt's eyes flashed with approval and Finn fought to avoid smirking. He loved it when could actually contribute because he was normally such a bad liar.

Carole sighed. "Will there be parents there?"

"Of course," Kurt said. He felt no need to mention that the house was so huge the parents would be, like, an acre away. It was one of the benefits of partying with prep school boys, for sure. He was also not going to mention the influx of girls from Crawford Country Day that would probably also be there. That seemed like an irrelevant detail—an irrelevant detail that would lead to a negative answer. He saw no need to push her to that side of the fence she was sitting on.

"You really want to go?" She asked, looking down at Finn. He looked up and over his shoulder at her and gave her a shrug.

"Blaine's cool enough. It's better than sitting at home. I've done enough of that for a lifetime."

"Not according to the doctor," she replied.

He sighed. "Mom, I'll be home all next week. I honestly don't feel _that_ bad anymore, I swear."

Carole was still rubbing her hand over Finn's head as she looked at Kurt. "Blaine's on his way now?"

"Yes. He ate dinner at the dorms so he left a little late." Kurt said simply. "And he's not planning on driving me back here, but we can just go get my car from Dalton and I'll bring Finn home tomorrow after I go to Whole Foods for dad."

She smiled a little bit. "Thanks for doing that, by the way. I wish I could've gotten to that appointment with your dad today." Kurt gave a modest little shrug and then stood up.

"Finn, if you're coming with us, then you'd better hurry and pack a bag."

"A bag?" He asked, looking at Kurt with confusion.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know, supplies one typically takes to a sleepover to ensure they don't become a social pariah just based on the smell alone?" Finn's face was still blank. "Let's go."

Finn had no idea how to do this and be subtle about it. Like seriously, he wasn't sure exactly what was going down here because he only had half the information he really needed. Was Rachel going with them to…he thought Kurt said he was going to Dublin. Why would Rachel want to…

Finn sighed. Of course she would have no problem fitting in with the Warblers crowd. He shook his head and just shrugged at his mom as he followed Kurt out of the kitchen and down the stairs. As he was walking, his phone buzzed against his palm and he pulled it open as he rounded corner and followed Kurt into his bedroom.

_I'm so excited to see you. ILY*_

He smiled, feeling the flash burn start through him and damn it…how was he turned on just at the thought of seeing her? It wasn't like they would be able to do anything at this stupid Warblers thing because there would be way too many people there.

Once they were in Finn's room and the door was closed, Kurt started chatting as he looked through Finn's closet.

"Is sex really that…"

Finn swallowed hard, still unable to wipe the smile off his face from the warmth of her text message. Because he was still distracted, his answer was probably more honest than it would've been. "I love her, so yeah. I want her, like _all the time_. It's that good."

Kurt spoke kind of softly. "We're waiting."

Finn shrugged and moved to stand next to Kurt. "This is going to make me sound like a girl, but I don't give a shit. Wait. Seriously."

Kurt looked at him doubtfully. "Even if this is the second time you and Rachel have stepped out into the dating world together, you really want to counsel someone to wait? Wasn't your hook up kind of sudden?"

Finn shrugged. "In some ways. It's right in others." His voice lowered and, even as he was distracted by the sheer amount of _red_ in his closet (the problem with the McKinley High athletics department supplying half your wardrobe), he mumbled his heartfelt reply. "I really love her."

"I think that's where me and Blaine are headed," Kurt admitted.

"There's nothing better than…y'know…_that_ when you love someone." Finn reached out to pull a couple shirts off hangers, not even looking at what he grabbed, and then stepped over to the dresser to get out some jeans and some sweatpants. He finished it off by retrieving a duffle bag from the bottom of closet and cramming all the stuff inside.

"You're such a guy," Kurt said, his voice carrying notes of disgust. "Please tell me you're at least taking a toothbrush."

"Good idea," Finn admitted before he moved to the bathroom.

* * *

They pulled to a stop outside Rachel's mostly darkened house. As the car slowed, Finn looked down at the phone he was holding in his hand, but it had stayed as silent as Rachel's house did. When no one moved and Blaine and Kurt just looked at him expectantly, he wasn't really sure what to do. So he did what he always did. He called Rachel.

"Hello?" She said slowly. He knew she drew the word out on purpose and her voice was low.

"Hello? Are you coming out?" Finn asked, his voice just as low as hers.

"No. You're coming in," she replied. His eyes widened and he looked at Blaine and Kurt, who were both turned around from their front seats to stare at him curiously.

"What? I thought you were coming with us," he said simply. Kurt laughed but didn't say anything. Finn felt stupid.

"No."

"So we're…" he said. He gulped. Suddenly, for some reason, he was a little nervous. And more than just a little bit turned on at the thought of a whole night with her. He totally owed Kurt for this.

"A great first step would be getting out of the car," Kurt whispered.

Finn mouthed his thanks to his brother and got out as fast as he could.

"Kay, I'm at the door," Finn said as he walked up the driveway in a hurry. He slung the bag over his shoulder while he walked. He saw her open the door as he bound up onto the porch. She didn't turn on a light but he understood—she didn't want to draw attention. It was probably the reason Kurt and Blaine didn't linger once he was out of the car, either.

She just stepped back and he pushed the door closed as his eyes roamed over her. She was dressed even more casually than normal, in a barely-there tanktop and long plaid pants. And it as pretty clear she wasn't wearing a bra.

He couldn't wait another second, but it seemed like she couldn't either. As he leaned down to kiss her, she went up on her toes. And just like the first time, she finally jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist.

Unlike the other day, however, he didn't make it up the stairs before he gently laid her down. Her legs were still wrapped around him and he was pressing into her insistently.

"I really, really, _really_ missed you," he breathed into the next hot kiss that already had flames curling up through her stomach. She ground against him eagerly, unsurprised when a rush of wetness soaked through her pants. She was breathing too hard to respond and just reached for the bottom of his t-shirt. She propped one leg on the stairs and he rested against her when he lifted his arms to let her take it off entirely. As soon as it was gone, he dropped his hands down to her sides, clutching at the silky material of her tanktop as he continued to kiss her hungrily, each kiss fanning the fire burning inside him and making the flames that much higher. Her could feel her kiss and her fingertips everywhere—in his stomach, in his throat. It was like she had a hundred hands and they were everywhere at once.

The doorbell rang, startling them both and Finn reluctantly pulled away from her warm lips to look at her.

"Are you expecting someone?" He asked, the words punctuated with his hard breathing.

"No," she managed. He rolled his eyes and pulled off her, his eyes dancing over her as she groaned and stood up. Her nipples were sticking out in high contrast to the smooth, liquid fabric of her satin shirt and he rubbed a palm over his rock hard erection because he thought he might die if there wasn't some sort of contact on it at all times.

She opened the door a little and tried not to laugh when a disembodied hand reached through the open crack of door, extending what appeared to be a new box of condoms. There were no words said, but she knew the hand belonged to Kurt. She took the box, whispered a thank you, and slammed the door. When she turned, Finn was laying back against the stairs with his eyes closed and his flat palm rubbing over the bulge in his warmup pants. The smooth material did nothing visually to disguise how turned on he was, and he knew the fabric didn't do anything to hide it either. She wasn't sure she'd ever had anything that hard pressed against her as they had been making out just seconds ago. Her stomach clenched as she watched him struggle to even breathe.

This just was _not_ going to work.

She'd told Finn a half-truth after their first go-round. She _had_ researched ways to help alleviate arriving early (she knew it was something he had been self-conscious about, specifically because he had never actually talked about it with her) while they were together the first time. But after she spent two fevered days with her fingers buried between her thighs, knowing it would be a while until she could feel the relief only he could give, she had researched a few other things. And she knew she needed to give him what would amount to a pre-game warmup if they were going to have the long night ahead of them that she really wanted.

With that thought in mind, she walked over to him quietly. He was breathing so hard, and she knew from her own experience that he probably couldn't hear her over the rush of blood in his ears; she was having the same problem and it was already absolutely destroying her focus as she moved. Her body hummed whenever he was close, but once they had been kissing and rubbing against each other _forget it._ She had never imagined it could be like this – until it was.

Once she reached the stairs, she set the box of condoms down on the step right next to his knee and slid her hands over the mesh material of his pants to reach the waistband. His eyes came open as she tugged on it.

"You're wearing too many clothes to be doing that," he said and his voice was so low it sparked over the fire coiled in her stomach.

"We'll get to me in a minute," she said simply. She didn't recognize her own voice either. He bent his leg and rested a foot on one of the stairs below her as he tossed his head back. She heard it hit the edge of a carpeted step and he groaned a little bit as she tugged on his pants. She left them around his knees, too impatient to continue any further, and then slid her palms up his bare thighs before she blew out a long, thin stream of air over his erection. It was already visibly straining, the flesh pulled as tight as it could go, and it jumped up toward her mouth as he let out a noise that could only be described as a squeak.

She tilted her head. She had tried this in his room, but they hadn't gotten extremely far with it. Right now, she felt like she had all the time in the world and she wanted to understand the power she had to make her manly boyfriend make that kind of a noise. She flicked her tongue over it. The first thing she noticed was the heat, but close behind it was the impossible softness of the skin. He made an almost choked noise from low in his throat and she pulled away to smile and lick her lips before she dove back in and pressed against his more insistently.

Her hair had been in a loose, messy knot on top of her head and his fingers made their way into a sort of haphazard massage as she heard his breathing catch while she dragged her tongue all the way up from his scrotum to his tip. Her hands had been braced on his thigh and reflectively curled around to cup him at the bottom as she wrapped her lips around and moved slowly, using her tongue to swirl as she went.

Finally, it wasn't working and she pulled back entirely. "Sit up," she whispered simply. He kind of looked like he might be dead or close to it, and she laughed a little. "_Sit up_," she repeated more firmly, finally pulling on his hands. Once he was sitting on the stair, she ducked back down and it was much easier to take him all the way in.

He thought he might die when he felt her swallow, closing her throat around him, and then continue down until her tongue was massaging the very bottom of his erection. He opened his eyes and tried to look, but he couldn't keep them open. She swallowed again, and then again, and the all the little flames that had been tickling at him, torturing him all week long, exploded. All he could feel was her and all he could see was stars and she just kept swallowing.

His head hit the stair behind him again for the second time in the exact same sore spot, but all he could do was say her name and swear.

She was slow and deliberate as she pulled back, then she dropped a hand down to tug up on his pants. Once the waistband was back around his waist and he had settled up, he pulled her up into his lap. He still wasn't totally sure his heart was beating regularly and his vision was laced with a fading red and orange glow as he held her close to him. Finally he felt like he had enough of a grip on reality to kiss her softly.

"That was amazing," he breathed. "_You_'_re_ amazing."

She smiled and pressed another kiss to his mouth, her heart soaring at all the affection and everything else clouding his normally-clear chocolate eyes. "Do you ever get the impression that, in the end, we went about this part of our relationship all backwards?"

His fingers were rubbing at the hemline on her tank top, occasionally rubbing against the skin on the small of her back, and even with all that physical contact, he was still a little nervous about where she could be going with this. "What do you mean?"

"Well…after six months of dating, I would barely even let your hands move from my waist if we were making out. You screwed up, I screwed up, and while we were angry, we had _sex_. So our first time together was basically _make up sex_. After that, we tried the usual groping and slower stuff… and _now_ we're getting to..." she seemed to be searching for words. "What is what we just did called?"

He laughed. "You're asking _me_?"

"I don't get the baseball analogy," she said simply. "You talk about second base all the time, or you used to."

He sighed and tilted his head to the side even as he shifted a little bit on the stairs. With the shift, his knees were bent more and she slid a little closer in his lap. "Well, first base is kissing." To emphasize his point, he leaned forward and gave her a short, soft kiss. Her lips were already swollen from their first kisses and she was so hot when she looked confused. It wasn't a look he saw on her very often. "Second base is, like, groping and stuff." He slid his hand up around her side and rubbed his thumb over the peak in her shirt, trying not to groan as her nipple tightened up under his light touch. "Third base is… well, what you just did."

She nodded. "Well, now that we've covered that," she started with a sigh in her voice he didn't necessarily like, "we probably need to have an actual conversation."

He frowned. "Like what?"

She tilted her head to the side. "That night when you came over…" her voice lowered a little bit and was she seriously trying to have this conversation while she was in his lap? "Why? Why did you need to see me so badly?"

He glanced at her, but it wasn't uncomfortable and she took some comfort in that. She wasn't totally sure she wanted to know the answer. A whispered "I don't know" was all he could really manage.

"What even made you think of it?" She asked slowly. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear that he and Puck had come to blows or that Santana or even worse _Quinn_ had put him up to it.

"You mean, what made me think of you?" He asked slowly. "I don't think anything_ makes_ me. It's just sort of a fact. And after you asked what I saw when I kissed you, I mean…it didn't just go away because you did. I thought about it a lot."

"And what did you think?"

"All I know is I couldn't remember what it was like to _really _kiss you without something else in the way. There was the crap with Santana, the crap with Puck… like, other people have almost always been in the way. I took the first chance I could see to kiss you with everything else gone."

"And?"

He leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss that lingered. He pulled his eyes open as he moved back and she just watched him. "And you're the _only_ one I want to kiss. And I don't feel bad about the other stuff anymore. And I never want to stop kissing you."

She let in a deep breath, her eyes still on his. "I don't want you to stop."

He gave her a wide smile. "So I didn't really ask you before…we just sort of got there somehow. But since we're busy doing everything out of order anyway, I guess it's okay." He dropped his voice down and gave her one of those soulful looks, like the last time he'd asked something really similar. "Rach… will you please be part of something special with me again? Be my girlfriend."

There was small spark in her eyes. There was no way, after all the energy she'd put into seeking forgiveness, that she could deny his sweet question. "Okay," she agreed quietly.

He gave one quick nod before he gave her another kiss. The kiss quickly fanned at the embers left behind. She kind of wondered if it was actually possible to _take the edge off_ when the embers, the hot coals were always there. Is this what people meant when they said they would walk through fire for another person?

"So this is going to sound bad," he said. She knew if _he_ of all people led off that way, then whatever he was going to say probably wouldn't just _sound_bad, it would actually _be_ bad. Her breath caught as he slipped a hand over her bare shoulder so he could play with the ribbon strap of her tank top. "But let's play it cool for a while at school, okay?"

She pressed her hands against his chest and scowled, but it wasn't angry and it wasn't confused. It was something else and he wasn't sure what exactly. He held his breath and waited for her next words. "I'm not very good at that…"

"It'll be hard, but… I just… consider it my first attempt to protect you like I should have all along. Santana will come after you, Quinn will come after you…" he shrugged. "It seems like all that is dying down. I'm not _ashamed_ and I won't even talk to them or anything but I just don't want it to be obvious. You know? I think it would be really bad in Glee club, too. I just…those girls are _crazy_."

"They think _I'm_ crazy," she said softly, her eyes looking down and her voice impossibly tiny.

He frowned as he moved the hand that had been in her tank top to her chin. He pressed up so she would look at him. "You are. But I'm sort of in love with your crazy and I don't want you to talk about it like it's bad." He pressed another soft kiss to her lips. He backed away and was almost a little cross-eyed when he looked at her. "Besides…" his eyes dropped closed and he hummed, a small smile ghosting at his lips.

"What?"

He took his hand from her waist and pressed it to where her fingers were brushing along his bare chest, stilling her hands. He hadn't even realized he was still missing his shirt until she started that. "I..I don't know. I can't think when you're doing that."

She licked her lips and tried to fight a smile. "Well, this is a really bad time of the year for you to lose your concentration."

He nodded and swallowed hard. "You make it hard to concentrate on anything. In a good way… but I'm really…I really want to fix some of the stuff I did or didn't do before. I want to take care of you. I don't want to hurt you. And I think protecting you from stupid Santana or Quinn is worth it for a while. And you know… it's not like we have to stay far enough apart the balloon doesn't pop or whatever, but…"

She almost laughed at the obscure reference to the only celibacy club meeting she'd attended. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. "Jacob ben Israel stalks me. You know that right?"

"He started again?" He asked. He thought he'd dealt with that before, but maybe it had been just another let-down.

"Yeah," she said. "I…I can deal with him, though."

"I'm sure you _can_ but will you let me?" He begged. "Please?"

She tilted her head. "What did you have in mind?"

"Puck totally owes me," he blurted out.

Her eyes opened wide and his opened wide and their heads came apart and they stared for a minute, wary of what the other would say once Puck was part of the conversation.

Finn finally relaxed, and as he chuckled, she couldn't deny it looked like he was over the whole thing. She was infinitely grateful.

"You can't deny that he _does_," Finn said.

"I can't, but I don't want to talk about him," she admitted, carefully leaning forward to kiss Finn again, this time letting her tongue out of her mouth to run against his lower lip before she tugged it into her mouth with a gentle suck. Once she had kneaded it between her tongue and her own lips, she let her teeth drag across the sensitive flesh and he moaned into her mouth.

Even as he moaned, he pulled away to look at her. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were a little clouded. "I don't want to either, but we need to—at-at least a little bit." She arched an eyebrow and, judging by the sparks in her eyes, he had handed her everything she needed to ruin his life. Her fingers traced along the contours of his chest again. His voice was so low it barely came out as he continued. "Um, I forgave him but I made him promise to stay away from you. I can't…I trust you. If you want to be friends with him or whatever..I…I…" he sighed and his eyes slipped closed. "Shit. What am I trying to say?"

"Hopefully there's something in there about forgiving me," she prompted slowly.

His eyes opened again and they were _blazing_. "Yes."

"But you already said you trust me."

"You're really the only person I trust." He shook his head. "I…I can't help it. It's like I _have_ to trust you. When I didn't think I could, I went a little crazy."

"And you're okay now?"

"I think so," he said. "It just took me some time. But we're back now. I'm back now."

"I missed you," she said, her voice fragile and breathy. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad to _be_ back." He offered her his wide, beautiful smile. It was a little goofy and totally him and she had kind of been afraid she might not see it again. It had certainly been a while, and her eyes filled. His voice was gentle and low. "What about you? Are _you_ back?"

"I can't be that girl who has to strike out for your attention," she said simply. "Because that's what the whole thing with Noah was. I-I can't do that anymore because I hurt myself as much or maybe more than I hurt you."

He just nodded and kissed her. That was acceptance enough of what she was saying.

As he backed away, she looked at him, tears still in her eyes. "And Santana…why? Why did you have sex with _her_?"

"The same reason you kissed Puck of all people." He said, his fingers still in the shoulder strap of her tank top. "It was like a weapon, and I think I hurt myself as much as I hurt you. And not that…not that they're even related, but I didn't have sex with you because you were _there_. I had sex with you because I love you and because I wanted to…"

"…and do you want to again?" She whispered.

"Yes." He pressed his forehead to hers and the word came out as almost a hiss. "Again and again and again…"

She gave a small laugh. "Me, too."

"Well then let's get started," he said, kissing her with more energy than any of the previous soft interruptions to their serious conversation.

"I think maybe we should tackle the bases one at a time," she breathed. "But first…I want to show you something."

He nodded and felt her hand slip into his. She backed away, scrambling a little bit to gain her footing on the stairs before she pulled him up with her. He was a little confused when they went into a den area that was just off the kitchen. He was familiar with the den, had spent a few Sundays in there watching football with her Jewish dad who was strangely fanatical about the NFL. They had done it enough that it wasn't awkward eventually and he felt the lightbulb flick on over his head. He had wondered exactly when the foursome of parents had become friendly enough to plot against him and Rachel – well, Sunday football was the answer. It was how they had all met, and over time, how they had almost become one big family.

It jabbed at his gut just what exactly that meant and what exactly he'd been missing. He basically refused to toss it aside again. It was too important to him—it had always been too important to him and how did he just now realize that.

He stopped short in the doorway and, as his stopping tugged on her hand, she pulled back into him.

"What's wrong?" She asked faintly, searching his face for any clue.

He wrapped his arms around her, his entire body folding around her into a perfect embrace. She fit right into the curve of his chest as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"I just love you. I hope you know that."

He felt her press a kiss to his bare chest and –wow, he'd been going without a shirt for a _long_ time. He shivered and he wasn't entirely sure if it was because her kiss shot straight through him or because he'd been going without a shirt for a long time.

She looked up at him with that smile—the one he would never be able to deny. It was a long time ago that he'd even seen it. They hadn't had very much reason to smile up until about a week ago. "Let's start a fire," she said simply. "That's why I brought you in here."

"To…start a fire?" He asked. She pulled away from him as he gestured over his shoulder. "I'm kinda confused about what you did on the stairs, then…"

His face broke into a grin as her hand slapped its contact with his stomach and his abs clenched with his grunt. He chuckled a little bit. _Now_ it was official they were back.

"Just find me the stuff and I'll get it started," he said, still chuckling a little bit.

"The stuff," she said. She clapped her hands together. "Right. Thank you, Finn." She went up on her tiptoes and, with just a little tugging, she kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

And by right back, she meant she was bringing him a science book.

His eyebrows went up. "This isn't…do you want me to burn it?"

She snorted out a laugh. "What?"

"All I need is a lighter and some wood." He held the book out to her. "Maybe some newspaper. Or I can take, like, the table of contents."

She crushed the book to her chest and looked at him doubtfully and for some reason it made him laugh.

It was actually harder to find the items he needed for the fire than they thought it would be. Turned out her dads were big fans of romantic nights before a woodburning fire (must've been where she got it from) and since it was late March, their wood supply was dwindling. But it seemed like maybe a running theme was figuring it out eventually because Finn got the fire going soon enough, citing Boy Scouts as the reason he was pretty good at it. He promised to maybe take her camping and he even ignored the totally uncertain look on her face when he said she would have fun.

"So now what?" Finn asked once the fire was suitably roaring from the large fireplace. He watched her carefully, half expecting some sort of a soundtrack to start playing or something. She'd gone upstairs for 'supplies', which consisted of a blanket that he recognized as being from her bed, as well as a few pillows. He thought something musical would've been hidden in the pile that almost swallowed her whole.

All he heard to answer his question, though, was her voice, low and sweet.

"Now we start another fire," she said simply. She raised her eyebrow at him and barely held back her grin. He didn't hold his back, because she _knew_ how bad that flirting was and so did he.

But it didn't matter when she literally tackled him, pushing him back on the floor in front of the warm fire. Her kiss was the same as she had kissed him on the stairs. She started by sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and kneading it with her tongue until she finally drew back and drug her teeth over the slightly swollen flesh. Her actions earlier had barely eased any of the pressure that had been building all week, and now it was her kiss that pulled the ripcord and made him burn again.

He wondered if she had any idea what she _really_ did to him. Then again, if she did, she would probably unintentionally kill him so it might be a good idea to rein it in a little bit.

They kissed for a good long time in front of the fire and she thought her entire body was going to melt. His fingertips were barely touching her skin, smoking and ghosting and making her whole body come alive inch by inch—like it hadn't been on fire already.

Finally, his hands were on her face and holding her jaw in place as his kiss tightened, pressed harder and more unforgiving against her mouth. When he pushed back, just a little and giving just enough room he could speak, she knew what he was going to say.

"So that's first base," he said, his voice low and breathy. She dropped her hands to the bottom of her shirt and peeled it away from her skin, leaving her as half-naked as he had been the entire time.

"Show me second," she said, grinding against him a little bit, both hoping the extra press of his hard length against her wet center would provide some kind of relief and knowing that it wouldn't. She was new to all of this, _they_ were new to all of this, but she knew what she wanted to happen here.

He groaned lightly into her mouth as one hand dropped to her breast. He latched his hand over her ribcage and brushed his thumb over the tight flesh. Somewhere in a foggy corner of his brain, he realized it felt like the controller on a video game, maybe just a little, and he had to fight off the urge to chuckle and wonder what the next level would be or exactly what combination of buttons he would have to push…

…no, this was going to go much_ slower_ than a video game and he would probably die at the end anyway. But this mattered more than any of that and it was a different kind of dying.

Her hands rubbed over his chest and his breath stuck in his throat, the way she was pressing down on him kicking his heartbeat into triple time. She smiled as she felt it speed up beneath her hand.

In need of the distraction, and maybe just a split second of separation if they were going to make it to third base before anything exploded, he reached his fingers down to the waistband of her pants and tugged impatiently. She pulled back and, though on her feet, stayed bent so he could guide the soft flannel cotton down her legs before she reached for the waistband on his pants. He intercepted her hands and laced his fingers through them both, then pulled, sending her sprawling on top of him. He easily flipped her over and, while she was still kind of disoriented from the motion, he brushed his tongue all the way down her body.

The wet trails he left behind were like the antithesis to the fire pooling in her stomach and making her breath catch, and even though the air between them was warm and humid, she shivered noticeably. He was gentle about it as he pushed her knees apart and then dropped down to his stomach to press kisses to the soft skin below her belly button.

"Finn," she whispered, but it was more like a sigh; he felt her hands in his hair and then her feet slipped over his bare back. He turned his head to one side then the other, placing wet kisses on the damp skin of her thighs before he dragged his tongue all the way down, moving as slowly as he could. He thrust against the blanket, hoping that little bit of friction would keep _him_ under control for a minute while he introduced her to the next step. He really, really wanted to introduce her to the next step.

He brought his hands up to the hot skin and used his fingers to trace around, his head up so he could watch her reaction. She was watching him with quite possibly the hottest gaze he had ever seen in his life and he knew this moment was going to be seared into his eyelids for a long time to come.

Finally, not soon enough for her, he pressed his tongue flat against her and dragged it all the way from the bottom to the top. Her eyes slammed closed and she gasped as he lapped. Truly, his tongue was slowly covering every inch of her but it didn't feel fast enough. As her hips jerked up off the ground, he put a flat palm on her stomach to hold her still. The ice cream cone theory flipped through his mind again and he used the tip of his tongue and the muted gasps she was making to figure out exactly where to direct that.

By the time he settled into a swirling rhythm, building the pressure as his certainty increased, she couldn't even suck in a breath and her lungs were scorching. All she wanted to do was move, but it was like she couldn't remember how to. Her hand had wandered down to clutch at the one of his that was still on her stomach, and she clamped her fingers down as he slid first one, then two fingers from the other hand into her, pressing in even as his tongue kept time like a metronome, ticking against the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves in a pulsing rhythm that totally _destroyed_ her. With one thrust against his tongue, he pushed her over the edge. As she danced against him, somehow trying not to strangle him with her thighs and at the same time, totally doing it a little bit, he heard his name fall from her lips and knew with certainty that their last base wasn't going to last long, because even through the muscle, hearing his name _like_ _that_ was going to be seared into his ears just like the look on her face would stay with his eyes.

He felt her fingers twitch where she was holding his hand and her legs relaxed. He reached for the box of condoms she had put up by her head and was totally surprised when she handed him one. He didn't know _when _she had opened the box or separated one from the perforated strip, but he was pretty grateful she had done it and he didn't have to fumble with it because his hands were totally shaking.

He ripped the wrapper open right down the middle and tossed it aside quickly so he could use both hands to unroll the condom even as her heels were digging into his waist a little. He leaned forward, resting on one straight arm long enough to position himself at her entrance before he dropped onto both his hands. He kissed her and pushed forward at the same time and felt her groan in a buzz against his lips.

"F-f-fourth base," he said simply. "Home." After just a couple more thrusts, he gave his body over to the hot, smooth grip of her body against the orgasm that was still fading from her, burying his head against her neck as her fingers smoked and curled over his bare back.

He kissed her damp skin softly and moved his face back enough he could look at her. That's what all this was—coming home. She _was_ home. He totally got the metaphor for once in his life. And he couldn't even find the words to say it so he just wrapped his arms around her and started back at one.


	4. Chapter 4: Never Let You Go

_A/N:__I owe so many thanks for the help on this part it is straight up ridiculous. I never imagined it would be this hard to write this kind of a scenario but it totally kicked my ass. Jen (wants2beawriter), Ali (joshsgrl), Kenz (egyouppt)… thanks for telling me I don't suck. Lizzie (Paceismyhero), thanks for telling me I don't suck, letting me derail your own writing and reminding me about _**_Lovestoned (I Think She Knows)_**_by _**_Justin Timberlake _**_for some much needed inspiration. I also listened to a fair amount of _**_Harder to Breathe _**_by __**Maroon 5**.__The songs mentioned within, even if I didn't name them, are _**_We Didn't Start the Fire _**_by _**_Billy Joel_**_, _**_Your Song _**_by _**_Elton John_**_, and **Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough **__by __**Patty Smythe (feat. Don Henley)**. Last(ish) but not least, thank you for the simply astounding amount of reviews, replies, follows and alerts. It's amazing._

_**Also, sorry if anyone received duplicate notifications for this part. Me and the Document Manager had a fight. It was a standoff with ransom involved. I won. Eventually.**_

_**Disclaimer**:__I own nothing. Seriously, nothing. And this seems like a great place to remind you this is rated M for a fucking reason (giggle) so if you're all innocent and whatnot, just don't read it. Mmkay? Thanks._

* * *

**Never Let You Go**

Finn kicked at the chairs in the front row of the choir room and let out a growl. "Fuck this song!" He said.

And he wasn't the only one with that reaction; they were going on all around at the same time. There were three of them who had messed up the lyrics—_again_—all at once and in different ways. It was just days before Regionals and they were still a total mess with this song.

"Finn!" Schue busted out. His frustration with his male lead was obvious and had been all day—all week really. "You need to figure out whatever is going on because this is the song we're doing. End of story. And it's going to be ridiculous if you screw up the lyrics."

"Maybe we should just have someone different for lead," Santana said. "All of the girls are doing just fine."

"We're _not_ having _two_ female leads!" Rachel barked. Her arms had been folded across her chest as she took in the scene around them. As of that moment, Rachel, Mike, and Brittany were the only ones who weren't having trouble with the choreography in any part; Rachel, Artie, and Puck were the only ones who could get through all the lyrics without screwing up. Brittany was the only one who wasn't _angry_ at anyone or _about_ something and that was only, they guessed, because Artie had calmly reminded her about something called a magic comb.

"Well, your hands are manly enough you could probably take the lead. No one would notice the difference if you were dressed like a boy anyway," Santana scoffed openly. "In fact, it might be an improvement."

Schue, Puck, and Finn all burst out at her at the same time, and the combination of "Fuck off", "Shut up", and "That's Enough!" came out sounding like just as garbled of a mess as the song had.

Rachel was only marginally sure Finn was the one who had said "shut up." His attitude was about ten notches below terrible and she just didn't understand it, but she was sure sick of it.

Finally, she held her hands out. "Okay!" She yelled over the chaos, her voice immediately commanding their combined attentions. "Finn—you're coming with me. _Now_," she lowered her voice and shot him a deadly serious look. "Artie and Brittany, help the girls clean up their choreography and lyrics. Puck and Mike, do the same for the boys. Finn and I will be in the auditorium. Boys in the dance room; girls stay in here. _Go!" _

"Rachel, _I'm _the teacher," Schue protested. She turned to look at him with an arched eyebrow, her look virtually daring him to speak at his own peril. "Okay, everyone split up like she said," he demanded with a wave.

Rachel turned on her heel and marched off toward the auditorium. Finn wasn't _right_ behind her, but she knew he was on his way. She made her way to the stage and she was already pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips by the time he got there.

Finn approached her slowly, his frustration and annoyance finally burning off when it was down to just him and her. He let out a long, deep, and loud breath to let her know he was there.

"_What_ is your problem today?" She demanded. He stepped even closer to her, and without a word, grabbed her arm and crushed her against him for a blistering kiss. His tongue was relentless until she let him slide it into her mouth with a squeak of surprise. He was rarely that forceful and he never clung to her arm just like that.

He finally let go of her arm and her lips and stood up to his full height.

"God, _thank you_," he breathed out.

She raised an eyebrow and tried to fight her smile. "Really? _That's_ what I needed to do?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, hanging his head from the tense line of muscle that connected his shoulder. "I'm never going to get this and every time I see you turn your skirt gets shorter and I can't concentrate already and then I have to touch you and_ does the dancing really have to call for you to run your hands down my entire body again_ and then I can't get the fucking words right and how can I _lead the team in Regionals _if I can't even get the fucking words right and—"

She ran her hands up his chest and he let in a long breath even though his chest heaved with the effort.

"Let's take this one thing at a time," she said, fighting to keep her voice under control. There was no point in both of them being frustrated and it was clear he was probably frustrated enough for all twelve of them. She saw his eyes come into focus as they locked on hers. She hooked her finger through his belt loop so they were still touching but not very much. "Let's start with lyrics. I think those are going to be harder because they're so _fast." _

"Okay," he agreed. He flashed a small half smile. "Sorry…for back there."

She gestured toward the piano bench and he wanted to know if she honestly planned to try playing the demanding Billy Joel song. She slipped her hand into his as they walked the few steps and gave it a small squeeze.

He sighed as he sank down onto the bench. "I wish Schue would just let me play drums for more than the beginning," he muttered.

She leaned a little closer to him. "But then you wouldn't get to do the crazy dancing with me."

"_Exactly_," he said simply. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I mean, is he serious with that? It's all I can do to get the lyrics out and I only have most of them. The dancing is just going to… what if I trip over you again?"

"You can do it," she said simply. "We just have to work on it more."

"And when would you like to do that with my mom keeping me on a freakin' electronic leash?" He demanded, but his tone was less frustrated than it had been and Rachel took some comfort in that. There was very little she could actually do to provide comfort while they were at school because it would just risk too much. New Directions was hanging on by a thread and all they wanted to do was get the group to Nationals. That had to be their priority during school hours; they could take care of the rest later.

"Aren't you supposed to go to the doctor again soon to get cleared for baseball?" She inquired. She couldn't help it—she _had _to touch him. She reached her hand up to brush against his hairline and, as his head dropped and his eyes closed, she slid her fingers all the way into his hair and he groaned under her soft touch.

"Yeah," he breathed. She heard his breath catch as her hand reached the nape of his neck. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

"I feel fine," she said gently. "There's a whole window with mono but…I feel just fine. I promise."

He nodded. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "Let's get to work."

She had only muttered through the first verse when he dropped his hand flat on keys and the dissonance made her stop and turn her head.

"What?"

"What is this song even talking about? It's just like, a list or something," he grumbled in frustration.

"Exactly. It's a list of all the things Billy Joel had been affected by during his life up until the point he wrote the song. His point is that there is _always _something going on… this all ties into the US History lesson." She scowled as she looked at him. "I know they talked about it in AP, and Puck said they mentioned it…have you been skipping history?"

He sighed and looked down at his lap. "Maybe," he mumbled.

"_Finn_!" She barked out. She flew up off the bench and put her hands on her hips. "Fine! Here's what you're going to do. You're going home tonight and you're going to look up everything in the song lyrics. Google it, ask your mom, actually crack the binding on your undoubtedly brand new history book, _I don't care_. Just write it down."

"Weren't we supposed to go to that play at the community theatre in Van Wert for English tonight?"

"You can find a way to the one Kurt's going to next week for Dalton."

"How do you even _know_ this crap?" He asked, watching her move. She was not particularly happy with him. He knew that's what this looked like and he sighed. Pissing his girlfriend off was totally the last thing he needed right now; he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger even as he fought the urge to grin (_his girlfriend_ had a nice ring to it and no he wasn't going to admit that out loud, now or probably ever, okay?). "So why am I going to do this?"

"Because I said so," she said. She sunk back down on the bench next to him.

"Because _no_," he retorted, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"Then because I better have it in my hands with all the words spelled right before you get to have sex with me again. And it's your history assignment from last week."

"Again – how do you actually know this crap?"

"I helped Sam with it, okay?" She asked. She rubbed his arm. "I know you've been taking nap breaks during school and trying to make sure it was only during classes you couldn't afford to miss. But you're better now, you can make it through the entire school day and if…" she sighed. "You just need to get your grades back on track."

He heard all the words she wasn't saying. She wanted him to get out of Lima as bad as _he_ wanted it and she had been pretty disappointed about the slide in his grades both without her and while he was sick. If he wanted to go _with_ her_, he needed to work harder do better __**be**__ better. _ She made him want to. She didn't even have to say it out loud.

"Wanna come over and help me?"

"I have to go to a play in Van Wert," she replied automatically. "But maybe I could offer you incentive."

His head was still dropped down but he could see her moving, could feel her next to him even when they weren't touching, like he was sitting too close to a campfire and feeling all the heat radiating from it, and he turned his head just a little more as he cocked his eyebrow. "I'm listening."

She shivered a little at the low, intimate timbre of his voice. Finn giving her goosebumps _at school in the auditorium_ didn't seem like keeping a low profile, but she couldn't help lowering her own voice in response. "What do you think would be a suitable reward?"

Finn couldn't stand to _not_ be touching her when her voice sounded like that, even if they were at school and _fuck not telling anyone_. He leaned down and kissed her, his fingers slipping up into her hair as he groaned against her tongue. He knew where they were just as well as she did, though, and he finally pulled away with one last, soft nip at her lips.

"I think that."

She gave a small smile. "Okay," she agreed.

He nodded once then closed his eyes tight and let in a shaky breath. She frowned.

"What did I miss?" She asked softly, mindful there was still not much distance between them. She didn't need to speak loud.

"There's something else bugging me," he admitted. "I can't _not_ tell you."

Her eyebrows frowned with the rest of her face. "What? You can tell me anything."

"Well, Quinn found me at lunch today," he started slowly. He pulled in a deep breath. "And she seems to think that I want to be part of the prom court with her."

Rachel raised an eyebrow slowly and tried really hard to control the sharp breath she let in. "And do you want to?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. Even if I _wanted_ to go to prom, I wouldn't want to go with her or dance with her or..." his breath out was ragged. "I'm still _mad_ at her."

Rachel put her hand on his thigh and rubbed it back and forth. "So what did you say?"

"I told her no. She got all scary about it, though. I think she's going to ask again. I don't want to talk to her."

"Finn…you kissed her. You said…you said it felt like fireworks," Rachel reminded him, her voice soft and weak. He felt like he responded to that voice of hers more than any other—because it just _wasn't_ _right_ for her to sound that way. He made her sound that way. He still felt guilty for making her sound that way.

He sighed and pulled his eyes open. "Let's not talk about this. I told you she asked, I turned her down, I hope that'll be the end of it, okay?"

She looked at him, her voice still low and her eyes still wide as she spoke. "Do you even want to go to prom?"

"I-I…if you want to," he stammered. His eyes roamed her face. "You're the only one I would want to go with," he admitted honestly. "I would _way _rather go to Nationals."

Her smile broke wide open. "Me, too. So let's make a deal?"

"Another one?"

"Yes," she said simply. "If we place at Nationals, we'll go to prom. If not…we'll make some excuse not to go."

He couldn't tug the corners of his mouth down. "Rachel Berry doesn't want to go to prom?"

Her smile was as hard to control as his. "Not especially. Why would you think it would be that important to me?"

He sighed and looked at her honestly. "I don't know. I mean… you would be totally hot dressed up. And you like to dance and be the center of attention. Like you would be the princess for a day or something, you know? I guess I thought you would like it."

"You don't think Quinn would try to ruin our good time?"

He sighed and looked at her with annoyance all over his face. "Well, I do _now_."

She laughed. "I know it might be hard for you to believe, but…I would rather go and have fun with my friends than anything else. If you want to come up with something for us to do that means I have to get all dressed up, then so be it. If you don't want to, we can do something else. As long as we're together, I don't care either way."

"Awesome," he said, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Camping it is."

"Umm…" she started to protest when Schue clapped his hands together loudly from the middle of the auditorium where he was walking toward them.

"Show me what you've got," he said simply. Finn looked at Rachel with wide eyes.

"We'll show you tomorrow," Rachel said primly. "Finn has some homework to do before he'll really know the words. How are the others coming along?"

"Just fine," he said easily.

"Okay, then you get to help Finn dance," Rachel said simply, jumping off the stage. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Finn.

"Call me if you need more help later," she said. She tossed a wink with her glance and was out of the auditorium before either of the men could say another word about it.

Schue dropped himself down to sit right on the edge of the stage, a few feet out from where Finn was sitting on the piano bench, the image of Rachel's retreat (and okay, maybe her ass, but he wasn't going to tell her or _anyone_ he'd even been looking) still flickering behind his eyelids whenever he blinked.

"Are you two back together?" Schue asked quietly. "Because Quinn just came to talk to me."

"Okay," Finn said slowly. He really wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

"She's refusing to continue participating in Glee if you and Rachel have a duet at regionals. She wants to sing with you instead."

"That's a bad idea." Finn didn't want to get into the details, not really, but he _really_ didn't want to sing with Quinn for a lot of reasons and really, Rachel was the female lead anyway so why were they having this conversation?

"Are you and Rachel back together?"

"Doesn't matter. Me and Quinn singing together is still bad."

"She said she would quit because she needs to focus on her campaign for prom queen. Do you know anything about that?" Schue was looking over his shoulder, but he looked as confused as anyone would and as annoyed as Finn felt.

"Yes. I'm not getting involved. I want to go to Nationals," he said. He was glad that he and Rachel had just finished this conversation. "And yes, me and Rachel are back together but we aren't telling anyone just yet because…well, because of stupid stuff like this. Rachel deserves to win even more than the rest of us do and I can give that to her."

Schue nodded. "Has…has she played anything she's writing for you?"

"A little bit," he said. "I think she's mostly just working on the group thing, though. She keeps thinking she needs to write about pain and well… things don't hurt so much right now."

"Good," Schue whispered. "How.. um… are you guys still going to be able to sing your duet then?"

They were supposed to be singing _Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough._ They had practiced and it sounded pretty tight, but Finn had to admit that he probably couldn't pull off the emotional content of that song when he was so happy. Well…all right. He was frustrated. But overall he was happy.

"Yeah…maybe… well, maybe we could change that."

Schue sighed. "You want to learn something new days before the competition?"

"I think the boys should sing something for the girls," Finn said quietly. "The girls deserve it. Most of us are paired off, and even the ones that aren't… well, I think without the whole Kurt-is-gay element we could do something new."

"Okay," Schue said as Finn moved to sit next to him. Finn draped his long legs over the edge of the stage. "Did you have a song in mind?"

"I think the cheesier the better. My mom said my dad always sang 'Your Song' by Elton John to her,' Finn said softly. He shrugged. "Rachel made me watch Moulin Rouge a couple times. Maybe we could do the one they did on there since it had a few guys singing and more dancing or staging or whatever."

Schue raised an eyebrow. "You surprise me more and more all the time," he commented with a laugh. "Okay. Well, let's work on the dancing for this one a little, okay?" Schue hoisted himself up onto the stage and Finn did the same before they got to work.

* * *

Later that night, Finn had his laptop on and zeroed to a Google search for Dien Bien Phu, his history book open to a small, colored block biography of Dwight Eisenhower, and he was busily writing in a notebook when Burt came into the kitchen. His eyes stopped on his stepson and finally, a snort of amusement brought Finn's head up from his work.

"What's so funny?"

"Who wanted you to study so hard?" Burt asked. "I think that's the first time I've seen that text book and we've lived together for the whole school year."

Finn smirked and shook his head. "Yeah, well… I have to learn the words to a Billy Joel song like_ yesterday_ and Rachel thought this might help."

Burt pulled up a chair at the table. "How's it going?"

Finn sighed and shook his head. "It's taking forever. I think this song has a million words and every single one of them is something I have to look up. Like…did you know that Coke and Pepsi had, like, some epic battle for customers way back in the 80s?"

Burt chuckled. "I might've heard something about that….while it was going on." He cleared his throat. "Rachel, huh? So…are you two…"

Finn finally set his pen down and looked at Burt straight up, sucking in a steady breath as he did so. "Are we what?"

Burt apparently decided to reroute his question at the last second, opting for the much safer "Are you guys back together?"

Finn just nodded. He was telling two people in one day and he actually felt…conflicted maybe? Well, either way he had already told him. It's not like he could get out of it now. And besides, Burt was… _Burt._ Who was he gonna tell?

Ugh. There _was_ someone.

"Please don't tell my mom. I mean….she already sort of knows but she's still all over me about the mono thing and it would get worse if she knew I had someone to make out with," Finn said even as he tapped the pen, rocking it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger so the tip and the displaced cap hit the table.

"I think she might be okay with it being Rachel," Burt said easily. He gestured to the stuff spread out everywhere. "She makes you do crap like this to earn the making out."

Finn shrugged. It was true. That was one of the things his mom liked about Rachel. And neither girl had been quiet about it—any of it. Rachel loved Carole back. He sighed. "Yeah. Well… do you think you could help me with something?"

"Like what?"

"Well, here's the thing. Me and Rachel aren't really telling anyone we're back together yet. Quinn has crazy eyes and she wants me to do some stupid prom royalty thing with her. Plus, regionals is a huge deal and it's just a couple days away now and…well, Rachel told me today she doesn't care about going to prom and I want to spend time with her but mom won't let me do anything until after that doctor's appointment next week and…" he huffed out a long sigh.

"I guess it makes sense you're frustrated," Burt said. He ducked his head to hide his smile. He waited a little while before he answered. "I'm not very good with girls. I never really was. Even me and your mom…we just hit it off because we have a lot in common."

Finn sighed. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Me and Rachel just… we _don't_."

Burt nodded. "Yeah, I kinda got that." He lifted the baseball cap up from his head long enough to smooth a hand over the fuzz of short hair on his head before he tugged the well-worn cap back into place. "Rachel is hard work. Maybe you should ask your mom."

"I don't…" he sighed again. "I don't want her to be all mom-like about it with, y'know, squealing and stuff."

"You just want Rachel to get that way," Burt said. Finn didn't reply; he didn't have to because the flames creeping up his neck and cheeks did it for him, not to mention the fact that the five ways Rachel would end up squealing that were running through his head like lightning.

"Well, let's think about _when_ you could do this. When is prom?"

"Six weeks or so. I don't know the exact day."

Burt nodded. "That's plenty of time."

Finn sucked in a breath. Maybe it was Burt's question about _when_, but it had jogged his memory. "So I guess I have a question to ask you." He rubbed his hand over his neck and looked away. "I'm not sure it would be cool to do a takeback, but…when me and Rachel were together before I bought some really expensive tickets to see Mary Poppins on Broadway while we would be in Columbus for regionals."

"Please take them!" Burt bursted out immediately. It made Finn chuckle. After the disastrous Christmas tree lot excursion, Finn had given his mom the tickets (she didn't seem thrilled but she couldn't say no either) and sworn he would never spend that much money on something again. At least, not until he had a better job than the barely-part-time nonsense at Sheets N Things. "Seriously, that would be fine."

Finn nodded. "I promised Rachel something where she could dress up and feel like a princess."

"Well there's something you two don't have in common," Burt said with a chuckle.

"I know," Finn agreed. "D'you think….well, would mom maybe let me get a couple of hotel rooms in Columbus? I'm guessing the show would get out pretty late and I'm not supposed to drive after midnight."

Burt frowned. "Yeah…" he sighed. "I'm not sure how well that will go over."

"I can already tell you it just won't," Finn said. He shrugged. "Oh well. We'll figure it out."

Burt sighed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket with an awkward rock to the side. "Let's just do this. Use my card to get a room with two beds. I'll handle your mother."

Finn reached out to take the credit card. "But…"

"No," Burt said. "Let me play good cop here for a second. You and I haven't always gotten along the greatest, I know that. We had some problems at first. It wasn't entirely my fault, but consider this, me doing you a solid. Just please don't give that girl mono. Your mother is so worried about that."

Finn didn't dare say another word. Getting _caught_ in the relationship by giving her mono was sort of the least of his concerns at this point. Just plain old _getting caught_ was climbing higher on that list.

Eventually, he realized he ought to at least say something else. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Burt half-spoke, half-grunted. As Burt moved to the fridge to see what could be for dinner (Carole was working an afternoon shift), Finn realized this conversation would've been virtually impossible the first time or maybe even the second time he'd dated Rachel. But now… now _everything_ was different. First Kurt had helped him out, now Burt was helping him out.

He had been so frustrated, but at least he wasn't alone. There were people helping. He had a family. Not to mention the fact that Burt had just hooked him up in a big way. And sure, Finn knew he would barely be able to pay his car insurance and for the hotel room with the money he had in savings, but somehow he felt more adult and like maybe Burt was closer to being his dad, like a _real dad_, than he had ever let on. He stopped writing, even though he wasn't sure what he'd been writing in the first place, and took a second to appreciate the opportunities he had right now. He had an awesome dad and mom, a brother who didn't totally suck (at least not sometimes), and yet another chance with the best, coolest, hottest girl in the world. It hadn't been that long since he felt like the biggest loser ever, but somehow his frustration was clearing and it felt like maybe, just _maybe_ things were turning around. And he'd better make the most of the new perspective.

* * *

It was almost surreal to be standing here again, a year later. Last year, he had just told Rachel he loved her and then the world around them had fallen apart and left them to sort out everything later. Now, things were pretty much sorted out, so he just had to wonder what was left to fall apart. Standing on this stage made him feel like _something_ had to happen.

Truth be told though, he had checked out as soon as they were done performing. He had gone over the plan with her dads (who _graciously_ kicked in with the funds for a _second_ hotel room that he was pretty sure they were probably busy rigging at this very moment with a nanny cam or something so they could make sure Rachel actually stayed in it after the show) and they had barely kept their smirks or comments about how well Finn knew Rachel to themselves. Neither could refute that a Broadway Across America show would be a great victory celebration, nor could they do anything but laugh when Finn admitted that if New Directions for some reason didn't win (he felt the sting of blasphemy just in his own thoughts), she would need _something_ to distract her from Monday-morning quarterbacking their performance until…well, Monday morning.

How he had managed to keep any of it from her when she was looking at him like _that_—like he was spacing out during a key life moment or something—he would never be entirely sure.

_Third place … Aural Intensity!_

He could only see the back of the short blonde woman's over sprayed head, but her words went through him. They had posted the list earlier of the bottom eleven teams and they were still part of the last three, now the last _two_ standing. As the team dressed all in red accepted their (small-ha ha, suckers) trophy, he looked over to the side and caught Kurt's eye.

Should he feel worse for hoping he squashed his own brother's hopes?

Nah. This was just healthy competition. This wasn't, like, standing by while someone threw him in a dumpster.

No, this was probably closer to tossing him in the dumpster and then closing the lid and walking away or something really, really bad, but it_ wasn't_ his fault they went to rival schools. It wasn't _his_ fault Kurt had transferred for his safety (because really, the bullying stuff he had participated was so harmless compared to everything else and God, anyway, this was all water under the thing and whatever… overness.)

Finn sighed and felt hands slip into both of his. He was sandwiched between Mercedes and Rachel in the front row and he sucked in a breath in time with their squeezing either of his hands. He felt like a frickin' mountain of guy standing between the two of them and maybe his hands would be crushed.

_Second place goes to the Dalton Academy Warblers._

The groups broke apart and no one on the stage could hear the stupid lady declaring New Directions the 2011 Regional champions. Some people were jumping and screaming. The Warblers group was more subdued, but they were intermingling with New Directions and offering their congratulations. He saw Puck slap Blaine on the ass and chant "good game" (somehow they at least _knew_ each other from something football related way back in the day), and he would've laughed but he felt Rachel's hand still in his and turned his head down. When he saw that wide, bright smile of hers, he couldn't _not_ kiss her.

If the kiss sucked all the air out of his lungs, it was _nothing_ compared to what it did to the entire group around them as they watched and seemed to understand immediately. He and Rachel were standing right in the middle of the stage, and as his head ducked down, it was pretty obvious. It was also pretty obvious this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment, over-friendly congrats.

Rachel nipped at his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to her, their tongues tying together in bows, ribbons of fire and lust and made out of familiarity more than anything else. His heart throbbed in his chest and his hands curled into the stiff, silky material of her dress, and he was only aware of that comfort and the need it brought with it whenever they kissed. He felt her feet shift as she stepped toward him, her hands slipping up into his hair, and he locked his arms around her waist. He loved that she was so tiny he could hug and kiss her at the same time. He made a mental note, even as he knew he would forget to say it, to tell her how much he loved that exact thing.

Finally she was peeled from his grasp by Mercedes who wanted Rachel to bounce and squeal with her. He licked his lips and sucked some of the staid air around them into his burning lungs as Kurt stuck his hand out.

"I already know mom and dad are taking a picture of this exactly, so congratulations. And turn away from the front of the stage because it's _obvious_ something is going on…." Kurt said.

Finn glanced down, despite the fact he could _feel_ what Kurt was talking about and automatically slumped. Not cool, Rachel. But at the same time, _totally cool,_ Rachel. He sighed. His fault anyway, he started it.

"Thanks, man. You guys were awesome. Your duet was solid," Finn said, shaking off the discomfort of realizing Kurt was looking in the first place and offering a genuine smile.

"I thought you and Rachel were going to sing a duet?"

"Nah…last second change."

"And was tongue raping her in the middle of the stage a last second change, too?" Kurt asked curiously.

Finn's eyes went wide. "I..uh…"

"Well, Quinn looked like she was going to do something drastic, so…" Kurt warned with a shrug. He gave a small smile before he moved over to where Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany were gathered around Artie. There was some weird bounce-roll-shift thing going on as they celebrated together and all mixed in he could hear shouts of "New York City—here we come!" and "We kicked ass". There was a chorus of screams once Kurt reached them and he was enfolded in the group automatically. Finn kind of wished there was a way to have Kurt there with them all the time; and he even had to admit Blaine was cool and should tag along too.

Once the group congratulating (and in his case, group harassment about the kiss and people pulling him aside for gossip he didn't provide) was done, there was a whirlwind of activity, especially for the co-captains who were responsible for getting everyone on the bus along with the ten tons of crap that was required for them to actually perform. He had to find Rachel and tell her there was a surprise waiting for her in the form of her dads having a dress for her to wear to the play. They would go to dinner first with the Berry dads and then head to the play afterward. It had started off, months ago, as an epic date night. After everything that had happened, they still got to do it and who was he to complain if there was a family dinner involved first? Plus, whatever Rachel had said to the dads had the positive effect of reinstating him as a trusted boyfriend. He was grateful for that.

He was still keeping the hotel a surprise.

Dinner was great, her gasp and the instant tears in her eyes when he handed her the show ticket was even better, and really, the whole night was what he had predicted when they talked about prom: it was a night for her to feel like a princess. He took every chance he could to tell her how much he loved her, how much he _adored_ her, and how much fun he was having. The musical wasn't his favorite thing, but everyone he watched or went to made it a little easier. He was positive by the time she was the star in them, he would love the theater.

Her gasps, her singing along quietly with the songs and fumbling for his hand during her favorite parts all had nothing—_nothing—_on the heart-stopping heat of her gaze when she realized they were spending the night alone in a hotel. (One bed, not two, but Burt didn't need to know that. All parents were on board with the two-room plan anyway. And Finn had been assured by the hotel staff there were no cameras or bugging devices in either of their rooms.)

"How long have you been planning all this?" She asked reaching down to peel the tall peep-toe high heels from her feet one at a time. Once both her feet were on the ground, he smiled. There was something to be said for heels and what they did to show off the muscles in her legs, but barefoot and undone was how he was more used to seeing her, and truth be told, was his favorite Rachel archetype.

He let in a breath. You couldn't actually sound like a sissy to your girlfriend, right? So it was okay. "Well…I bought the play tickets when they went on sale in October."

"Are…" she shot a confused and amused glance at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "My mom and Burt were more than happy to give them back." He lowered his voice to a teasing volume. "I think maybe my mom was afraid Burt would think Mary Poppins was hot."

"The actress _was_ beautiful," Rachel agreed. She gave his hand a squeeze and walked away from him and further into the room.

"Too tall." He said immediately. He toed the shoes off his feet and tugged at his tie. "Anyway, the rest of it I planned after we talked about not going to prom."

"That was just a few days ago."

"I know," he said quietly. He dropped down onto the king-sized bed and shrugged. "I guess it's just a little taste of the future. Best I could do on short notice."

She had tugged the curtains apart to peek outside (it was just a Target parking lot, nothing special) but let them fall so she could come over to him. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know…I'm sure some day we'll be dropping onto bed after your show and wondering out loud if we _have_ to have sex or if we can just go to bed." He smirked in her direction and she realized he was teasing, at least about the last part. But her heart had settled on the first part and it thumped loudly in her chest. She went up on her knees, tucking her feet underneath her neatly as she turned to look at him.

"It's amazing that you can start off so sweetly and end up so clueless."

He raised an eyebrow, his hands and fingertips finding the forearm she had draped across his chest. "What?"

"Of _course_ we're going to have sex." She rose up on her knees to place a gentle kiss on his mouth and his breath caught in his throat.

Even back in October, there was no way he could've predicted _this._ And there was no way in hell he wanted to change it.

He inhaled a deep breath through his nose as they kissed. He was determined to take control of this. For once, they literally had all night; he could take his sweet time—they could take their sweet time. It seemed like everything had been so fast, so rushed. None of it was bad, but it was just always rushed and he always wanted it to last forever.

He leaned back, pulling her to sprawl on top of him, never breaking their kiss and only heating up more. Her knees landed to either side of his hips and she pressed against him insistently as he gathered the lacy fabric of her skirt into his fist. He sighed against her lips as the slow burn of her touching everywhere finally flashed; he pressed his hands on her butt insistently so she pressed more tightly to him. Even as she did it, she broke away with a ragged gasp that ended in a whimper.

Finn had loosened his tie but hadn't taken it off, leaving the shining aqua draped around his neck; she didn't bother with it now either, just brushed it out of the way with her fingertips so she could work on the black buttons that lined his shirt.

He watched her, his eyes moving from her hands clawing at his chest and back up to her face as she paid attention to what she was doing, and his breath caught. He had been patient all day—well, hello, other than the one kiss—and he had burned through his supply of patience. He wanted to flip her over and just…

They hadn't really done that before. He wasn't sure how she would react.

The next thing he knew, somehow she had looped the length of the silk tie around both of his wrists and woven it through the wooden slats on the headboard. She settled back against him tilting her head as she surveyed her handiwork.

"Um… Rach?" He asked in confusion. That wasn't the plan. He didn't want to be _tied up_. Or maybe he did. He'd never really thought about it before, honestly.

"You've made all these plans and been in charge of my entire day," she said. Her head was still tilted and there was something in her voice he hadn't heard before. "It's my turn now."

Whatever it was in her voice, it burned right through him. She was hot.

She pulled her little black dress off with one arm over her head and one quick fling of the other arm and his eyes slipped closed. She shifted back just enough that she could undo his belt and her weight pinned him almost painfully. He bounced his head against the pillow and found himself having to think of the mailman for the first time since they started hooking up.

"Jesus, _Rachel_…" he groaned. "Untie me."

He couldn't even open his eyes but somehow he knew she was shaking her head. If he hadn't known it, he would've for sure when all of a sudden, the pressure was gone. All it did was make him ache harder, somehow. He dragged his eyes open and watched as she tugged his pants away from his hips. With his hands tied as they were, she couldn't take his shirt off, but it hung off him loosely anyway. Once his pants were gone, she climbed back up his body and ran her hands over his chest, awakening white-hot trails of fire. His hips rolled up into her out of his control. She had settled with her knees on either side of his stomach though, kneeling on the tails of his untucked shirt, and rolling his hips did _no_ good. He grunted in frustration.

"Well, I guess the good news for me is I can take my time deciding what I want to do first." She said her voice thick with false innocence.

"No," he protested. At this point, he could feel how damp her underwear were against his stomach. His abs clenched painfully as the realization that she was as aroused as he was sunk through him. "No, just… just untie me." Flipping her over and getting his own way had never sounded as appealing as it did at this exact second.

Instead, she rose up on her knees and leaned forward to give him a scorching kiss, her tongue barely sneaking out to tap against his lip.

Heat was pulsing off her skin and it was just out of his reach. He could feel how hot she was as she hovered over his chest, but her lips were the only part of her that was actually touching him. He had never noticed it before but his hands _wandered_ when they kissed. His hands fisted uselessly somewhere up above his head. Her hair…her chest…her hips… all these places he wanted to touch and what the _fuck_ kind of knots did she tie anyway? How did she _know_ this shit?

"Rach…" he gasped out as she pulled back just a little to lick her own lips. His throat was parched and his hands were aching and burning, but all he could manage to touch was where part of the tie dangled uselessly, the open edge from one of her expert knots. "Rachel, _please_," he begged. He wanted to undo her bra, wanted to feel the hard line of her spine, her smooth skin. He could smell her, he could almost feel her against him, and it was killing him.

Her response was not her voice, not that low sexy timbre she used while they were fooling around that he'd come to love in such a short time. Her response was another wet kiss, and this time her tongue meant business.

His hips rolled up uselessly again and again, and she dropped her head to kiss at his neck and his ear.

Her tongue traced along the red outer edge of his ear and even as warm as it was it felt cool to the touch of his superheated skin. His eyes fluttered and he tugged down hard on the tie to no avail.

He thought he might die as her tongue made a trail all the way down his chest. She inched, moved so slow he thought he might pass his seventeenth birthday before she got where he wanted her to go. But wait, did he really want that?

If her tongue touched his erection, this was going to be over in no time. No him having his way. No watching her face and hearing her barely breathe his name. That just would _not_ do.

As it turned out he had nothing to worry about, because she only danced around his chest and stomach with her tongue before she was rolling a condom down over his length and _fuck_that was way worse than her tongue would've been. Especially when she slid back up his body easily and the straddled him without taking him in at all.

He finally pulled his eyes open to look at her, his breathing irregular and panting hard now. Her eyes were almost coal black, singed in desire and then she started talking and her voice was velvet smooth and so low. "I've been thinking."

_You usually are. I love that about you_. He couldn't say it.

"I haven't been on top yet. Not really," she said simply. She gave a little shrug and kept looking at him. "There are a lot of times in life I haven't really cared about being on top…"

_Now is __**not**__ the time for this conversation._ His head bounced on the pillow again and he thrust up, this time making contact of some kind, but it wasn't satisfying because everything he wanted was still just barely out of his reach.

"But with you…with you I think I care." She reached a hand out and pressed her finger to his lips. "I think I care a whole lot." She tilted her head, and finally when her finger made contact with his mouth he felt like he could do _something_ so he flicked his tongue out and then folded his lips over her before she could protest. Her breathing sped up and her voice slid closer to its normal range. "Do you want me to be on top?"

He just nodded.

She nodded in response and reached the hand that wasn't in his mouth down between them. And then she proceeded to use every single abdominal and leg muscle she had to slide down so achingly slow he thought he might literally die. The first time they'd had sex, he felt like every part of him was on the verge of explosion and she had just reignited that feeling again. He hated her. God, he ha—_loved_ her.

She pressed all the way down and he flexed his hands again. Maybe he should've listened to Popeye a little closer, eaten more spinach or something, so he could flex his arms and break the goddamn tie.

"Being on top is good," she said slowly. Her head tipped back and her hair slid back over her shoulders with the motion. "But I need something else." He thrust up as hard as he could and she pulled her head back up to look at him. "What would you do for me?"

"Untie me and I'll show you," he practically growled. All he could see were bouncing breasts and her finger was still drawing smoky rings around his mouth even after he pulled away enough he could answer.

"Maybe in a second," she said. She left her finger against his lips, the one contact he could actually _choose_ to make, but dropped her free hand to where they were joined together. It was the weirdest thing to have that kind of…perspective…where he could _feel_ her body responding to her own touch. He could feel the muscles in her body gripping him tighter and he could barely breathe. His vision was turning orange and hazy and… he had a feeling that being able to _really _touch her was the only way he would actually be able to get off. Otherwise, he was going to just stay here in this half-baked, scorching, fiery hell forever. It felt like it had been forever. It felt like it hadn't been long enough.

"Please, baby…" he gasped out. "Please untie… uh… please untie me." He begged. "I… _please_."

"You want to touch me?" She asked—it was almost a _demand_.

"So bad…."

She leaned forward and the change in angle was enough that he was seriously going to fucking die already. All of a sudden, the blood rushed into his hands and he felt the tie go slack and she sat back up. His hands landed on her hips and dug into the tight flesh, the feeling of her under his fingertips finally providing some sort of relief to the ache that was building. He slid one hand down and used it to knock hers out of the way so he could touch her and she was so wet and so hot and it all ignited in an instant.

He didn't even see stars. He went blind.

At some point later, neither of them knew how _much_ later exactly, he could see again and he was aware of her still all tangled up in him. His arm was around her, tucking her into his side and her leg was flung over him, draped over his waist. They were both panting hard and covered in sweat as they cooled just a little from the firestorm.

"Where did you learn how to tie knots like that?" He asked. He still didn't recognize his own voice.

_What? It was the first question he could coherently ask._

She gave a little giggle, pressing into him a little more tightly as his fingertips drew a random pattern on her sweat-slicked upper arm.

"I had to tie some ropes for a pulley on a set when I was doing Les Mis at drama camp. The whole set was operated by the actors and…you have to be good at knots."

"You should teach me how to do it," he said off-hand.

"Not a chance," she giggled. "Then I would _never_ get to be on top."

He kissed her forehead. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're always on top of _everything_."

He could practically feel the embarrassed blush dancing in red patches across her face. "Thank you for all of this, Finn."

"You're welcome," he said softly. They both dozed off just where they lay, the three unspoken words lingering on their lips and the hope that this was the first of many nights like this to come burning brightly between them.


End file.
